The Center Cannot Hold
by Objessions
Summary: AU - Multi-chapter fic looking at Mac and Jack's relationship; what it might look like if Mac had to hold the team together and then what it would be like if his walls came down afterward (Prompt from Lhaven). Also some early Mac/Jack memories and maybe a teeny bit of diabolical Nikki.
1. Chapter 1

**The Center Cannot Hold**

 _A/N – Thanks everyone for the kind reviews and suggestions. I've got a nice long prompt list to work on now to meet my insatiable need to write all the things! It was hard to pick the next prompt I wanted to tackle, so I just went with the one that made a quick picture in my head to work from. Thanks to Lhaven for the inspiration. I'm going multi-chapter so, I'm diving in the deep end here. Paraphrase: What about a scenario where Mac has to hold it together for the team, and then the after when he can finally 'let down' (fall apart) once everyone is safe? What would that look like on Mac and how would Jack, Riley react? This one rang a bell, probably because of what I pictured happening after Hole Puncher last week. Also I have a mighty need to explore memories of early Mac and Jack and maybe tease some evil Nikki. We'll see…_

 _All mistakes belong to me. As before, I own nothing._

The rest of the Phoenix team was streaming in through various entrances to bat cleanup now that the smoke was clearing. Jack stood back, eyes still sweeping the room, reassuring himself that all threats had truly been neutralized. He grinned as he took in MacGyver walking the newly rescued hostage over to the team's medic, one hand supporting the shaken young woman's back and the other on her elbow, as he talked in the usual low reassuring tones, distracting her from the agents rounding up the stunned industrial spies that had taken her from her lab, where she was working on a project for the Phoenix Operations Division. It was obvious to Jack that, as usual, Mac didn't notice this lovely scientist looking at him like he was a knight in shining armor. Of course, according to Mac, that's how all hostages looked at their rescuers, and it had nothing to do with interest. Jack supposed that was a fair point, but he didn't think Mac gave himself enough credit. He never had really, but since Nikki betrayed him, he had been more immune to romantic attention than ever. Jack thought it was willful obliviousness, and he couldn't decide if it was because Mac had hopes that he and Nikki might get back together now that it seemed she was one of the good guys again (a bad idea if ever Jack had heard one) or if it was just another wall the kid had built after being mistreated and discarded by yet another loved one (the worst kind of shame since, in Jack's mind at least, the kid had a heart that should have its own zip code). Mac made eye contact from across the room and Jack canted his head toward the woman Mac had only just stepped away from. Mac rolled his eyes and shook his head, crossing the room to check in before Jack called out something embarrassing that everyone, including the shaken but brilliant Dr. Madden, might hear. Jack's eyes narrowed as he saw the way his partner was walking.

Catching Jack's expression, Mac closed the rest of the distance at a jog. "Hey, Jack. All good with tactical?"

Jack nodded and tilted his chin toward Mac. "Yup. You alright, bud?"

"Yeah. This was an easy one. Not a scratch." Mac shrugged dismissively.

"Don't bullshit me, kid. You were limping."

Mac headed toward one of the exits, body language communicating clearly that Jack could follow or stay here watching the clean-up crew and that after an extremely long day and overly exciting final forty-five minutes of it Mac was indifferent as to which. Jack fell into step beside him and when Mac glanced sideways Jack just raised his eyebrows in a familiar challenge. Mac shrugged again. "A twisted ankle isn't a scratch, Jack."

Jack stopped Mac with a hand on his arm. "Don't get cute with me, Mac. We got a medic right here who could take a look."

"She's busy." Mac resumed heading for the SUV they'd arrived in.

"That's alright," Jack grinned, jangling the keys to remind Mac that he was in the driver's seat, in more ways than one right now. "I'm in no hurry; one of the advantages of a mission on the home turf – short commute." Mac very obstinately jogged the rest of the way to the vehicle and climbed into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt, and pulling out his cell to text Matty now that the comms had gone dark. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Asking Matty for a debrief time." He glanced at his phone. "She said it'll keep until office hours." He paused significantly. "So we can head _home_ now, Jack." Then thinking a little flexibility would probably be helpful since it seemed like Jack was in big brother mode, as a peace offering Mac asked, "You wanna crash at my place? Boze headed up to Mission City for a couple of days. He's in somebody's wedding or something. Did he mention it to you?" Jack knew what Mac was up to but just nodded. "Without him I can't promise a decent breakfast, but I can promise no bad pop music too early in the morning."

Jack keyed the car to life and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove with only the noise of the radio for a few minutes before Jack ventured, "We could just swing into Phoenix and you could get your ankle looked at tonight …"

Mac let out a noisy puff of air. "Jack … I just want to go home, have a beer, and maybe, if it'll make you feel better, ice the ankle I barely twisted getting Dr. Madden out of the way before that blast. Then hopefully rack out. It was a long day, Jack." Jack didn't answer so Mac said very firmly, "Home. Beer. Ice. Sleep. That is all."

Jack chuckled, "Alright, alright. You sure it's okay though?"

"Jesus Jack! I said I'm fine!" Mac was uncharacteristically sharp. Jack didn't know it, but his earlier thoughts of Nikki were dancing near the line of the truth. She'd been in town last weekend and Mac had agreed to meet her for a drink. She'd let on that she wouldn't mind a drink on his back deck with that amazing view of the city, and her implication had been the she would like to watch the sunrise with him, like they used to. Mac had put her off, saying the team was hanging out watching movies together and it would be weird. He didn't share with her that he wasn't ready to trust her for more than a casual drink, but her vehement response to the mention of his team had stuck with him. She had snapped, "Aren't you a little tired of Mama Bozer and Papa Jack dictating how you spend your evenings? Jesus, Mac, they treat you like you're a high school freshman. And what's worse is you let them!" They'd said slightly stiff goodbyes not long after and Mac had gone home and pretended to watch Lethal Weapon III with everyone while he stewed about his evening with Nikki.

Jack kept his eyes mostly on the road after that, only occasionally stealing glances at his partner who was definitely tired and teetering on the edge of being annoyed. Jack knew he was a little over protective of his partner, but looking out for the kid had stopped being a job before the end of the mission where they'd met. Normally Mac not only tolerated his brotherly affection, but often sought it out. Something had been going on in his head lately. If Jack was any judge of character or situations, he would have bet the farm that it was Nikki weaseling her way back into Mac's life. If he didn't want to make the situation worse, push the two of them back together if only because Mac had a stubborn streak a mile wide, he should probably back off a little bit. When they got to Mac's place, the kid slid out of the SUV and turned toward Jack, running a hand through already tousled hair. "You coming in?"

Jack gave him a very understanding smile. "Nah, I'm headin' home. You look like a guy who could use a little peace and quiet." Mac glanced away sheepishly; he'd been thinking almost desperately that what he wanted was a night alone to just think. Jack shook his head. "Workin' with me all day and then comin' home to Bozer? Look, I love Bozer as much as the next guy, and I know I'm generally awesome, but you don't get much space, Mac."

Mac grinned. "Thanks Jack. G'night." Mac closed the door and started off toward the house. Jack began to slowly back out of the parking area, grinning a little himself when he saw Mac's very deliberate stride that was trying, and not quite managing, to hide the limp Jack had mentioned earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

Mac was the last one into the conference room the next morning. He'd intended to just do exactly what he said; crack a beer, ice his ankle, and doze off on the couch. But, it had been nice to have a quiet night to read some journals he'd set aside, play Xbox with no one trying to give him tips to improve his game, and wander out onto the deck when he felt like it, so he'd stayed up way too late and slept through his alarm. He didn't feel too badly though since Jack was just stirring too much cream and sugar into his coffee and sitting down with Riley and Matty. Mac greeted the team and got himself a necessary cup of liquid life before joining them at the table. Matty was at least ten minutes into the standard questions that were part of an uncomplicated debrief when Mac felt Jack's hard stare boring into the side of his face. Riley was in the middle of explaining how she had tapped into a private satellite to pose as a member of the organization that had taken over Dr. Madden's lab and taken her hostage so Mac quietly whispered, "What?"

Jack whispered back, much less subtly, "You. Are. Still. Limping."

Mac had been in a great mood when he walked in, but he felt an almost immediate flare of irritation. "I'm fine," he hissed, picking a paperclip out of the bowl and beginning to reshape it.

After a few more irritated whispers back and forth, Matty turned away from Riley and almost barked, "Am I keeping you gentleman from something?"

Mac began an apology, but Jack interrupted, "Mac got hurt last night and didn't report it. I'm just tryin' to make sure this mission report has all the information."

Matty looked Mac over from across the table. "Baby Einstein looks okay to me, Dalton."

Mac rolled his eyes at the nickname and Riley snickered. "Yeah, Jack," Riley offered helpfully. "You just like to fuss."

Jack pretended offense (as far as he was concerned, it was actually a compliment that his interest in the well-being of his team had been noticed). "I do not like to fuss." One of Mac's golden eyebrows climbed in an expression of disbelief. "I _do_ like to know my team is looking out for themselves. And that no one is going into the field at less than their best …"

Jack had been planning to go on, but there was real fire in MacGyver's eyes at the implication that he might endanger his team with an unreported injury. Jack knew shutting up had been the right move when Mac snapped, "I would never put any of you on the line like that and you know it, Jack! You're a big football fan; you should know there's a big difference between hurt and injured. I _hurt_ my ankle so I iced it. If I was _injured_ I'd have reported it and gone to the infirmary!"

Jack was about to defend himself a bit when Matty gave Mac a hard look. "So you did hurt yourself then." It wasn't a question.

Now Mac was the one looking defensive. He looked down at the paperclip he was still fidgeting with. "No … I mean … well, yeah, a little. But it's fine."

He stared daggers at Jack.

Jack was ready to just apologize for bringing it up, but Matty said, in her typical no-nonsense tone, pretending that her order was merely a wise suggestion, "When we're done here, it might be good if you let someone take a …"

Mac pushed himself up from the table, face faintly pink, not with embarrassment, but with frustration. "You know what? I'm sure you're right. I'll go waste the doctor's time for a while this morning." He tossed a mangled paperclip onto the table. "Jack can fill you in on our part of the mission. I'm sure you only need the competent adults involved. And if I can't be trusted to look after myself long enough to put on a bandaid, I'm obviously not in that category." He tilted his chin toward whatever he had tossed on the table. "I don't need one of those any more than I need the human version of one."

Mac stalked off down the hall toward the elevator.

Riley's eyes widened and she looked at Matty and Jack for some explanation. "What's up with him?"

Jack looked slightly defeated at having misread his partner so badly. "If I had to guess, I'd put my money on whatever went down with him and Nikki the other night."

Matty picked up another abandoned MacGyverism off the table. She raised her eyebrows at Jack, "You sure it's just Nikki's influence, Brother Bear?"

Jack took the tiny sculpture when she held it out to him and held it up, squinting in an expression that looked like real pain.

It was a crutch.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac came back to the office a couple of hours later and handed Matty a form from Dr. Andrews, who was honestly Mac's first choice if he had to deal with Medical since the man almost never argued much with Mac's self-assessment and didn't ever push medication unless it was truly necessary. Although, Mac had a suspicion that Matty had called ahead after he'd stormed out because this time the doc had insisted on an x-ray to confirm his diagnosis and on wrapping Mac's ankle before he left. Matty scanned the form quickly while Jack pretended to be checking his email. Riley had been excused a while ago to grab lunch and do some hand-to-hand training and had left gratefully, not wanting to hang around and watch Jack check the clock and look like a kicked puppy because he knew Mac was mad at him. Mac was looking slightly smug, but a lot less hot under the collar than he had earlier. Matty looked up and gave him a small smile. "Slight sprain. No restricted duty necessary." Mac opened his mouth to speak, but Matty continued, "However, Dr. Andrews does note here at the bottom that several days of rest, ice, and anti-inflammatories would benefit you." Mac's mouth closed and his eyebrows went up, wondering where this was going. "Mac, you and I both know that Tom knows you well enough not to phrase anything as 'doctor's orders' but that if he put the note on here at all, it's what he's really recommending."

Mac sighed, "Yeah." He paused to cast a look at Jack, who was very deliberately not looking up. "So, am I going home, Director Webber?"

"I get how you operate now, Mac. I'm Matty when you like what I say and I'm Director Webber when you don't. I think I'm going to decide to be flattered that you feel any particular way about me. Makes me wonder what you call Dalton when he's fallen out of favor though."

Jack looked up with an almost hesitant grin. "Jackass. He calls me Jackass."

Mac flashed a quick grin of his own. "Well, what else am I gonna call you?"

Now the tension had eased a bit, Jack's grin grew. "What it lacks in originality, it more than makes up for in accuracy."

Matty approved of the more normal way they were interacting and chased them both out of the office, telling Mac that Andrews might not like to say ' _orders_ ' but she had no problem with it. Two days. Doing everything the doctor suggested. With Jack as a chaperone. Because Jack might care if Mac was mad at him, but she didn't. He just nodded and mumbled, "Yes, ma'am," as he left with Jack following close behind.

The ride home was quieter than it might usually have been, but other than that, neither Mac nor Jack had any interest in bringing up Mac's earlier fit of temper or that Jack might have overstepped his role a bit when he told Matty about Mac getting hurt. Jack was just so happy that Mac had actually gone and taken care of himself and that he hadn't argued with Matty about going home that he wanted to reward good behavior. He also felt a little guilty about setting Mac off and hoped to apologize the best way he knew how. He stopped and got take-out from Mac's favorite taco place and then pulled into the grocery store a few miles from Mac's and grabbed a twelve pack of the beer Mac preferred, never once saying that bean tacos were weird or microbrew was anything other than the manliest of beverages. When Jack pulled into the parking area and turned off the car, Mac felt like he had to say something before they went inside. "Jack … I'm sorry I snapped … I've got a lot on my …"

Jack waved him off. "Don't even worry about it, brother. Everyone gets a little prickly sometimes. And I know I'm the worst mother-hen you ever met. Worse than Boze, even. Riley read me the riot act about it a little after you left. I think what she said was, 'You're not the dad of me or Mac either. Unless we ask you to be'."

Mac chuckled, picturing Riley and the way her eyebrows seemed to want to connect with each other when she was upset. "Sometimes we both need you to be the dad of us … Most of the time I just need you to be my partner though." Jack smiled so broadly when Mac said they needed him as their dad sometimes that Mac thought the man's face would split. "I shouldn't have flipped out on you. Just … sometimes it feels like you think I'm thirteen instead of going on thirty." Jack was going to say something but Mac held up his hand. "Don't even say it. I'm a lot closer to thirty than to twenty … But I know sometimes you still see the kid you found in that cave; wounded and beaten, dehydrated, hungry … I get it. Just sometimes, I don't want to be reminded of it. Okay?"

Jack was doing the thing where Mac was pretty sure the man was looking into his very soul. Sometimes that look would make him want to find somewhere else to put his eyes. After a minute Jack nodded. "I didn't realize that's what I was doing. I'm sorry."

Mac shook his head, now sorry himself that he'd put it like that. He was also sorry he'd mentioned their meeting, because it almost assuredly meant he'd be up with nightmares tonight and he wouldn't even have work to distract him from it the following day. He wanted to lighten things up, so he hedged, "I'll admit that from Day One I've probably been training you to think I need a fair amount of looking after."

Jack got out of the car, effectively ending the serious part of their conversation and, determined to get Mac into a better mood, off his feet, and out of the dark headspace he was sure Nikki was responsible for, he just headed toward the door without checking to see how Mac was managing on his recently-wrapped ankle. When he got there first he called over his shoulder, "Hurry up, Gimpy! Our tacos are gettin' cold and our beer is gettin' warm."

Things were back to something resembling normal for a little while, at least. Then, as they were winding down for the evening on the second night, they'd gotten a phone call from Matty saying she needed them in the office ASAP. While that felt like the most normal thing in the world, it didn't take them long to figure out how wrong they were.


	4. Chapter 4

"Chechnya?" Mac was frowning at the screen, which displayed the familiar face of one of Phoenix's most productive foreign independent contractors, a young man about Mac's age, whose sly grin and bright eyes advertised his intelligence and slight cockiness even in the grainy press ID photo. "What was Kolya doing in Chechnya?"

"Nicolai Sokolov illegally entered Grozny last week after breaking off contact during an interview with Phoenix related to a human rights violations story he had reported on."

Mac and Jack both stayed silent, waiting for Matty to continue as Riley keyed a few things into her laptop and several new images popped up on the screen. It was strange to see their team's analyst more in the know than they were, but Matty had taken a liking to Riley and had been briefing her ahead of missions so she could have contingency plans in place to back up the rest of the team. The images were a lot to take in: A satellite image of what had every appearance of being a prison, with high walls and armed guards. A very grainy black and white photo of that facility's yard filled with thin men, in grey ragged clothing, milling around listlessly, bringing to mind images of the Holocaust. And finally, beneath the picture of Sokolov, another young man, wearing one of those ragged grey uniforms, on the ground in front of a guard who was preparing to strike him with the butt of his rifle. Even in the poor quality image, the similarities in facial structure left little doubt.

"Our Russian friend became privy to these images while speaking with one of our agents about the rumors of concentration camps in Chechnya. He recognized his brother immediately."

"Alexei," Jack murmured. When Matty looked at him he went on, "Helluva nice kid. Since their parents died he's at Nikolai's when he's not at school."

"So you know both of them." Matty wasn't asking; instead, there was a hint of concern in her voice.

The lines in Mac's forehead made him look older, and the way his eyes were narrowed it looked like he had a headache. "Yeah, we do. What happened?"

"Nikolai knew his brother was part of a humanitarian aid mission after the most recent sweep of anti-LGBT violence there. They were both known to be dedicated to getting Russians to condemn the actions and support those looking for refuge. Not that Russia is much better." Matty frowned, and nodded to Riley and another image appeared on the screen. It was a photograph of a handwritten note. "He left this note for our agent after looking at the intel. He snuck out the back and disappeared. It says …"

Before she could read it, Jack surprised all of them by translating the Russian words, "My brother is in the camps. I'm going to get him. Kolya."

Mac was on his feet. "When do we leave?"

Matty would have smirked if the situation those two boys were in wasn't so grave. "Slow down, Blondie. You don't even know what the mission is yet."

Mac looked at her with an expression of slight disbelief. "Um … Nikolai Sokolov and his brother are probably both in one of the Chechen concentration camps – seems pretty likely it would be the closest one to Grozny based on this intel. We're going to get them out. Pretty simple."

This time a small smile ghosted over her face. "More or less. I guess you can read the specifics in the air. Grab your gear. Wheels up in an hour."

Mac strode from the room, barely even looking at Jack or Riley and headed down the hall to gather his things. Riley's eyes were slightly wide at Mac's reaction and she looked to Matty who, in turn, looked to Jack. "Mac seems to be taking this one a little personally."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, he would." Matty raised an eyebrow, wondering what she was about to learn about her agent. Then seeing her expression Jack chuckled. "See, the Sokolovs are people Mac considers friends, and our boy will go to crazy lengths for his friends, as you maybe noticed." Matty and Riley both smiled fondly. "But the thing is Mac takes their situation, the situation in Chechnya a little personally."

Riley tilted her head, "I never realized Mac's …"

Jack shook his head. "Oh, he's not … But, think about it … Slight kid, pretty face, atypical interests, who grew up in a pretty small town that's maybe a little conservative? I know Mac's 'fessed up that he was bullied a lot as a kid." Both Matty and Riley nodded. "He probably hasn't gotten real detailed with you guys, so I'm gonna let you in on a little secret that long hours of yakking to pass the time during surveillance has enlightened me about … One of the things Mac got bullied about in high school was the assumptions people made about him."

Riley raised her eyebrows. "But, if he isn't gay why didn't he just say so and get the other kids off his back?"

Jack chuckled with real warmth. "Because, Mac says nobody should ever defend themselves from something that shouldn't be seen as negative to begin with. Nobody should attack someone for who they are. You see?"

Riley got up and slid her laptop in her bag and turned to go grab her bag. "Just when I think I can't love the guy more …" She was shaking her head affectionately as she strolled out.

Matty was giving Jack a speculative look. "Our boy's got more layers than an onion."

Jack grinned at her. "What about cakes, Matty? Everybody likes cakes."

"Don't tempt me to start calling you Donkey, Dalton … Of course, that _is_ pretty close to Jackass …"

"Now Matty …" Jack began.

"Get outta here, Dalton. They're already warming up the jet."

Jack nodded and got up to leave. He turned to say something else and saw that Matty had sat down in the spot Mac had vacated and was playing with the paper clip art he'd left. "What is it?"

At first Matty didn't answer. She looked almost sad. "He makes these a lot, I've noticed." Jack waited, and she held it up for him to see. "It's a dove."


	5. Chapter 5

"You okay, Ri?" Mac asked, sitting down on the deck next to her, putting his backpack between his feet so it wouldn't get tossed around with the pitching of the boat.

After a couple of minutes she lifted her head and gave him a weak smile. "I didn't know I'd get sea sick. Ugh."

Mac patted her shoulder and got up, extending a hand to help her to her feet. She shook her head and then regretted the movement; it seemed to make her stomach feel worse. "You'll feel a little better if you can see. Trust me."

Riley knew Mac wouldn't suggest something if he didn't genuinely think it would help so she let him haul her to her feet and then sat down next to him on the bench that ran around the entire deck. She glanced at Jack who was talking with the captain, or pilot, of whatever the hell you called the guy crazy enough to take them up the coast to get them near enough to Chechnya that a land crew could smuggle them inside its borders. Mac was rummaging in his pack and when she returned her attention to him he handed her a water bottle and a couple of pills. The idea of swallowing anything was pretty unattractive, but she took them from him and asked, "What are these?"

He made the face she thought of as earnest self-deprecation. "They're for motion sickness."

She swallowed them with a reluctant sip of water. "Do you get seasick?"

He grinned. "Not usually. I have though. It's awful. One time I was hurt pretty badly and couldn't move around on ship. My guts felt like a lava lamp. You don't want to start a mission feeling like that." She nodded her head in agreement. "Besides, always be prepared, right?"

Mac could see he was doing a decent job of distracting Riley from her misery since she smirked at him. "I thought you got kicked out of the Scouts."

He flushed at the memory of having to admit his expulsion to his grandfather, but laughed lightly anyway. "Doesn't mean their motto isn't solid."

They chatted for a while, occasionally raising eyebrows at Jack pacing the deck and yelling at someone on the sat phone from time to time. Finally Riley commented, "Jeez, the old man seems wound for sound on this one."

Mac looked away from Riley, across the deck at Jack for a minute, then his face got the expression that she thought of as circling the outer planets. "That's probably my fault."

She put a hand on his arm. "Mac, you always think everything is your fault. Jack's just … Jack."

He forced himself to make eye contact with her. This was important, and maybe if he could get through saying it to Riley, he could make himself have the conversation with Jack. "No … I took his head off the other day. Just for giving a damn about me. And he … He gave me a pass like he always does." Mac sighed. "It's just … I didn't have much of a childhood, you know? My mom got sick when I was really young. My dad didn't really want to deal with it. Then, in different ways I lost them both. And my grandfather, he was a good man, but … He wasn't really up to parenting a twelve year old whose primary pastime was blowing stuff up in the garage. I just grew up young I guess." Riley nodded her encouragement. Mac must be feeling really guilty about yelling at Jack if he was opening up like this and she didn't want to say anything that might stop him from unloading. "I guess when Jack goes all DEFCON Dad … it reminds me of what I missed."

Riley felt a tightness in her chest. She took Mac's hand. "I know what you mean. I was sitting on the deck trying not to puke and thinking how weird it is to be out in the middle of the Caspian Sea and it made me think of one time when I was younger and I was really sick." Mac squeezed her hand. "My mom couldn't get off work and Jack stayed home with me. He read me all seven books in the _Chronicles of Narnia_ … _Prince Caspian_ was my favorite. That was the first time in my life I ever really knew what it was like to have a dad." She paused for just a minute. "No matter what our lives looked like back then, we're not missing anything now."

Mac leaned toward her and bumped his shoulder against hers, an expression of total understanding. He said quietly, the joking tone of his voice just shy of believable, "Knock it off, Ri. You're gonna make me start bawling like a kid." She chuckled anyway, not about to call him out for the vulnerable too-shiny look his eyes had at the moment. His eyes searched her face for a moment. "So, you feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good I think. Thanks."

Mac gave her a reassuring smile and then got up and strode across the pitching deck, not like someone who'd ever been seasick, but rather like a creature native to it. Riley had noticed Mac could do that in just about any situation, adapt and act like he belonged there. She thought that, while it was a useful ability, it must be exhausting, especially since he didn't seem to know how to turn it off. He and Jack started talking seriously, and pulled in the couple of other operatives on the boat who Matty had now assigned to their team, insisting that they were not going to keep going into the field with no support like the Musketeers. It was then that Riley realized land was in sight.


	6. Chapter 6

The road in had been about what everyone had expected, but they had managed to avoid border patrols and both government and insurgent encampments. The small house they were using as a staging area was drafty and dingy, contributing to their tension. Riley was at the small dirty table trying to hack her way into the local government's server to see if she could verify that the Sokolov brothers were in the nearby camp. Jack was, predictably, looking at their tactical gear, checking loads and back-up clips, making sure the comms were all in working order, and mumbling to himself about the last time he'd been in country. Steve, the medic Matty had sent along, was checking his gear as well, and glancing at the door every so often, and then at his watch, starting to be concerned that their recon guy, who he had worked with quite a bit, hadn't made it back yet. There was little else to do. The core team didn't talk to him much. He didn't think it was on purpose, but they clearly didn't have a lot of experience having actual backup. Matty Webber had gotten a lot more flexible since first assuming command of operations at Phoenix, and everyone knew Mac and Jack had a lot to do with that, but one thing that hadn't changed was her commitment to not having her agents taking unnecessary risks or going anywhere unsupported.

Mac, who was clearly still not used to having anyone but Dalton around, was pacing. Now that they were here he just wanted to go in and get the Sokolovs. The plan was to take them to a neutral point where a Russian associate would get them back home to Moscow, but Mac hadn't thought that far ahead; he was just concerned with their freedom. Alexei was only nineteen. He was just a kid. Mac stopped himself; he was starting to sound like Jack. He'd have to watch his step. While Mac had certainly considered himself a full-fledged adult at that age; he'd been younger than that when he'd become a soldier. And he wasn't so very much older when he'd been taken prisoner in the mountains of Afghanistan, certain he was going to die there. If it hadn't been for Jack and the rest of the Delta team he would have. No matter how smart, or capable, or inventive you were, if someone starved you, beat you, tortured you, and then tied you up and threw you in a hole, whatever they wanted to happen to you would. If Mac could stop either of the brothers from knowing that helpless feeling, he was going to.

He stopped wearing a groove in the dirt floor when Riley sighed in frustration. "What's up, Ri?"

She glanced around at the rest of the team, all of whom now had eyes on her. "I can't figure out what kind of encryption key they're using. It keeps looking like I get in, but then there's nothing there. I need …"

The soft triple tap on the door made everyone flinch just a little, even though they had been expecting it. A key hit the lock and the tall dark haired thirty-something slipped in. He could easily pass for a local and had spent the last several hours doing just that. He took in the frustrated expression on Riley's face and grinned, his teeth very white against the dark beard he kept for the very purpose of appearing native in places like this. "Server problems?"

She frowned. "Yeah. It looks like I'm in, but …"

"There's nothing there. That's because there's not. Nothing important anyway. Their systems are so outdated, I bet even Dalton could figure them out."

Jack smirked at the younger man. "Very funny, Milton."

He sat down at the table across from Riley. "I'm hilarious. I also happen to be the big damned hero of the day."

Rodgers, the medic, rolled his eyes. "Todd, I've known you long enough to appreciate your flare for a dramatic reveal, but all you're doing is pissing these guys off."

They were kind of staring daggers at him so he just decided for an info dump instead of telling them the whole story. He guessed maybe his sense of humor was an acquired taste. "The old jail they're using is falling apart. No modern security I could see. Appears to be about twenty prisoners, six to ten guards. I couldn't get a full count on either. The guards all looked the damned same and some prisoners aren't allowed out in the yard."

Mac was frowning down at the agent. He was not used to intel coming in this easily, and he'd gotten somewhat used to Riley being their source. It had been so long since tech didn't really factor in he couldn't even remember accurately what that was like. Now he had a moment where he was sorry she was with them since even the simplest mission could be dangerous. "You've only been gone a couple of hours. How'd you get all that so quick?"

Milton shrugged. "I blended in with a group and went right into the prison." Mac's head tilted in a silent question. "They let guys in to throw rocks and stuff at the prisoners from behind a chain link fence every day from what I heard today."

Mac leaned against the nearest wall, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Jesus," he murmured in disgust. Then, "Did you get eyes on our objectives?"

The agent nodded. "The kid I did. He looks like hell. Just leaned against the wall like he could barely stand. Most of the guys were at least trying to get out of the way. I made sure not to hit anybody, by the way, so you can stop looking at me like that," he finished a little defensively.

Jack swallowed hard. He did not like the faraway look on Mac's face one bit; it went right past angry and straight on to horrified and maybe a little sick. Jack was, for his own part, ready to spit fire. "What about the brother?"

"I didn't see him, but I got pretty decent confirmation that he's there. One of the guards threatened to beat on the kid's brother some more if he didn't move off the wall."

Riley's hand was over her mouth and she was just shaking her head. Mac, Jack was happy to see, was back to looking angry. He looked at Jack. "How do you want to do this?"

Jack got up from where he'd been checking their gear on the floor. "Why don't you let Milton and I talk tactical for a few. You and Ri maybe get something to eat." Both of the young people shook their heads. Eating was the least appealing idea in the world after what they had just heard.

Rodgers suggested, "If they want the brains of this operation otherwise occupied, why don't you guys help me clean up the back bedroom a little. I'm pretty sure those guys are going to need my services before we move to exfil, or we won't get very far by the sounds of it, and the room is disgusting."

Riley and Mac somewhat reluctantly followed him into the narrow hallway and Jack called after him. "Don't be gone too long. This isn't going to be a complicated plan. We'll need you to hurry back so you can MacGyver it up a little."

Mac shook his head. "Stop using my name as a verb, Jack. It's weird."


	7. Chapter 7

"Yeah, this was a great idea, guys," Mac's voice dripped sarcasm as they edged along the high wall of the prison, looking for a place to drop into the yard.

"You had your chance to MacGyver it up," Milton whispered with some amusement. Whether Mac knew it or not, Jack wasn't the only one at Phoenix to use his name as a verb.

Jack glanced over his shoulder and decided Mac's eyes were too big and the boy was about a whisker away from being distracted by his fear. Good natured teasing usually helped keep Mac in the moment so he whispered, "He's just touchy 'cause we're up on this wall and there's basically nowhere to look but down. He don't care much for heights."

"Shut up, Jack," Mac hissed. The last thing he needed was for another team member to tease him about that. What he didn't realize was that Jack's plan had worked perfectly because he'd stopped being afraid since he was too busy being irritated with Jack.

Instead of the ribbing Mac was expecting from their new teammate, Milton let out what passed for a low whistle. "You're afraid of heights and you're up here running around with us spec ops nut-jobs like it's a stroll in the park. Damn, son."

Jack cut off their conversation with a sharp gesture, motioning for them to drop down, and all three of them flattened themselves on the narrow ledge to avoid being seen by a guard who was out for a cigarette. After only a couple of minutes, someone inside the building called out to him and the man carefully pinched out the cigarette and put it in his pocket. When he stepped back in the lighted doorway and closed the door behind him darkening the yard again, Mac was the first one back on his feet. "Let's get over to that corner there." He pointed as the other men rose. "That should be out of the line of sight of that doorway when we come down."

Jack glanced over his shoulder at Mac. "What's goin' on in that ginormous brain of yours, Mac?"

Mac actually grinned. "I'm about to MacGyver up this plan."

0-0-0

Things had gone swimmingly knocking out the cigarette smoking guard, stealing his uniform, getting Milton suited up in it, and having him go in to clear the way to the holding area, with an artfully pick pocketed set of keys. Mac had snuck into a hallway and lifted them off a guard so smoothly, so silently, that Jack asked if that's what he'd been kicked out of the Boy Scouts for. There had been a small hitch when they couldn't find Nikolai's name on any of the paperwork at the empty guard station. Then Milton had swept the entire area, playing his part of sleepy surly guard perfectly. He got eyes on Alexei Sokolov, but there was no sign of his brother anywhere. Hiding in a dark alcove, the small team discussed their options. There weren't many attractive ones.

"Maybe Alexei knows where he is," Jack offered, but he looked uncertain.

"Maybe," Milton agreed uncertainly. "But I doubt he's in any condition to tell us."

Mac glared at him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"He's passed out on a filthy cot. He looked sweaty, but he was shivering, talking in his sleep. Not doing too hot from what I could see."

Mac puffed out an annoyed frustrated breath. "And you were gonna mention this when exactly?"

"I don't know. It didn't seem all that important until I realized he might be our only source of actionable intel about your other friend."

"Damn. Okay. I need a minute to rethink things. If he can't get out of here under his own power …"

Milton frowned, wishing he'd said something sooner. He didn't do great with the 'people' part of missions. He was more of a 'shoot your way out' kind of guy. But he was also a 'blend in with the crowd' kind of guy, a skill that Mac struggled with and Jack was flat out terrible at. And he still had the uniform on. "Alright. You guys are gonna hate this, but you head back out the way we came and go over the wall." Jack was about to interrupt. The man hated anyone else taking the lead on tactical, but this was the only fast solution that made any sense, so Milton went on, "Doing recon I saw them taking guys they've gone a little too far roughing up to a shitty little clinic up the road. I'll just throw the kid over my shoulder and if anyone tries to stop me I'll tell 'em he got lippy and I think I cracked his skull. These assholes want the guys in here alive so they can suffer."

The same disgust at the idea of treating people this way that Mac had been feeling since he learned of the mission was stamped clearly across his features. "And if that doesn't work?"

He glanced at Jack. "Then I'll give you guys some sorta signal and ole Dalton'll come rescue us, guns ablazin', Texas style."

Jack liked the sound of that, because the idea of putting a round in any of the guys who'd been beating on young Alexei enough to have him delirious in a cell was damned attractive. He could, however, tell what Mac was thinking. "Well, Todd, it would be my genuine pleasure to bust a cap into any guard in this place, but let's try not to sound any alarms since that might be not so _bueno_ for our friend Kolya, wherever he is."

He gave them both a curt nod. "I'll do my best. We'll rendezvous in the alley with the car. Make sure it starts before I get there with the kid, okay?"

Mac nodded. The ancient Azlk was fiddly at best and Mac had spent a fair amount of time hammering on it and swearing at it all morning. "We'll be ready." In an uncharacteristic gesture for someone who was new to him, Mac reached out and patted the man's shoulder. "Be careful, man."

0-0-0

Other than a moment of stubborn frozen feet before rappelling back down the wall of the prison on the outside, during which Jack heard the frustrated whisper, "Get it together Angus," and several maddening minutes with the car refusing to start, things went reasonably well. Milton had taken so long that they were starting to expect a 'guns ablazin'' signal when he strode into the alley, carrying the thin body of Alexei Sokolov like a sack of potatoes. As they approached the car both Mac and Jack could see that the boy was conscious, but he wasn't struggling at all. Jack saw a protective look on Mac he didn't think he'd ever seen before. Well, if he was honest, he'd seen the look a lot; in the mirror. Jack knew it was the look he wore whenever he was really worried about MacGyver. Mac opened the door and helped Todd ease the kid into the back seat and then he climbed in beside him.

Jack climbed in to the driver's seat and turned on the dim dome light for a moment so Mac could see if the kid had any injuries that needed attention before they moved. Suddenly the boy's slack face lit up with wide-eyed recognition. "Mac!"

Mac put his hand on the kid's arm. "Yeah, Lex."

"You have to help Kolya, Mac," he panted. "They're going to kill him."

"Where is …" Mac stopped. The boy's eyes had rolled back in his head and he passed out. Mac tapped the back of Jack's seat. "Go. Let's get him back to the house so Rodgers can have a look at him. We don't have much chance of helping Kolya without him."


	8. Chapter 8

Hours later an exhausted but stubbornly awake MacGyver sat in the rickety chair he'd pulled from the kitchen and propped against the wall next to the narrow bed where Alexei was sleeping or, more accurately, lying unconscious. Sleeping was probably too gentle and sane a word for how the kid's brain was protecting him at the moment. Mac thought that after a couple of bags of IV fluid and some antibiotics and antipyretics added to the drip the boy looked a little more like himself. Too thin, dear god too thin, but like he could recover. Mac was leaning forward resting his head against the flats of his hands when he heard the whispered sigh of relief. "Mac. You weren't a dream."

Mac forced on a reassuring expression as he looked up and moved his chair closer. "You thought I was a dream? I guess you're not over that wicked crush you had on me when you were sixteen yet, huh?"

Something resembling amusement touched Alexei's wide, still-feverish eyes, then his expression was pained. "Did you find Kolya? Where is he?"

"We were hoping you had some idea …" Hearing that his brother wasn't with them, raw anguish swept over the boy's features and he started to try to get up. It didn't take much effort on Mac's part to keep the malnourished bruised kid right where he was. "Hey, hey, shhh. It's gonna be okay. I'm going to go get him, wherever he is. You can count on it. But I need you to be still. I don't know if you've ever been on an IV before but you're dehydrated and you need medicine. If you pull it out and our guy has to start it again, it's gonna suck. A lot."

A shadow passed over MacGyver's normally bright features and his eyes narrowed with a fleeting unwelcome memory. Alexei nodded and relaxed back into the thin pillow they had found for him. He believed Mac when he said that he'd go get Kolya. Mac never made promises he didn't keep. But he looked so upset and like he was trying very hard to hide it that Alexei was worried something had happened to his brother and Mac just didn't want to tell him. "You don't know where he is?"

Mac just shook his head. His eyebrows were getting closer together as he searched his young friend's face.

"They caught him taking pictures of the camp, I think. They had his press ID and they found that picture of us at my graduation in his wallet so they figured he was there because of me. They threw it in my face a few times, but I didn't tell them how we knew each other." Alexei's voice was almost toneless. It was the numbness of trauma that MacGyver was all too familiar with. "They beat me in front of him once, but they didn't let us talk." He paused and swallowed hard, realizing for the first time how dry his mouth was. "I haven't seen him in person since. I was unconscious for a day or so after that beating. One of the guards … always smelled like cigarette smoke … showed me a picture on his phone of Kolya … tied to a chair … bleeding … I don't even know for sure if he was still alive." Now tears were falling silently from the boy's eyes and Mac took his hand. "I think it was in the basement. That's where they took me when they first brought me here … _Ublyudki._ "

 _Bastards, indeed_ , Mac thought. He saw Alexei struggling to swallow again. He didn't dare give him any water without asking so he called out, not too loudly, "Hey Rodgers, your patient is awake; are you?" When he'd left Mac with Alexei earlier he'd told him he was going to catch a nap at the kitchen table until they needed him.

In less than a minute they were joined by the rangy dark skinned medic with the reassuring smile of someone who has had to convince a lot of people in pretty dire situations that everything is going to be okay. Regardless of how absolutely non-threatening the man was, Alexei had a moment of blind irrational panic at the introduction of a new face and scrambled up to a sitting position, digging with his feet and coming dangerously close to pulling out the IV MacGyver had warned him about. Mac knew the feeling … intimately. He sat down on the bed and began talking in the practiced reassuring tones that were useful for everything from frightened animals to hostage negotiations. Rodgers, to his credit, continued to move slowly into the small room, and set down his bag next to the bed, then he leaned against the wall with his arms at his sides, hands open and relaxed. "Lex, this is my friend Steven. He's going to take care of you for now so I can go figure out how to get Kolya back."

Alexei blinked slowly. "You know him? And he's your friend? How long?"

Mac gave a reassuring smile that didn't have to be forced this time. "I haven't known him for that long, but he's part of my team now. And … I trust him with my life, with Jack's life, okay?"

Rodgers gave Mac a very genuine grin. Nothing said a real 'welcome to the team' quite like an honest reassurance about you to someone who wasn't part of it. Mac moved away so Rodgers could work and he stood at the foot of the bed by the door for a minute just to make sure Alexei was really okay. The kid grinned at the medic now. "Your name is really Steve Rodgers?"

"Damn it all," he laughed good-naturedly. "I thought I wouldn't have to hear sass about it from a Russian patient."

Mac was so focused on Alexei's more relaxed demeanor that he didn't catch on for a second until the kid laughed and the sound reminded him of the first time they had met when he'd rushed into his brother's apartment after school one day when Mac and Jack were there. "I love comic books and movies!" the boy enthused. It encouraged Mac that he was becoming more animated. He felt a small smile tug at the reluctant corners of his lips. Jack had never failed to come through with a comic book for the kid and often would let him watch movies on the tablet he was supposed to reserve for Phoenix business. If sharing a name with a super hero was all it took to get the kid to calm down enough for Rodgers to treat him, Mac was doubly glad the man was now part of the team. Alexei had raised an eyebrow. "But you don't look like that Steve, more like maybe Luke Cage … Mac kind of does though. Very Cap. _Da_?"

Mac just shook his head with a small grin, unprepared for how this conversation was about to make him feel.

"Luke Cage, huh? I'll take it ... I don't see Mac as Captain America though. Around the office we joke that he's secretly Iron Man … Science nerd, inventing stuff to save everybody? And he could probably do it in a cave in the middle of nowhere just like in the first movie, too."

Mac felt the pace of his breathing pick up unexpectedly as Alexei replied, " _Net_. No way. Team Cap all the way and Jack Dalton is his Bucky."

Mac kept his expression carefully neutral as he excused himself from the room. He breezed through the rest of the house, telling Riley, who was picking her head up off her arms after her own nap, that he was going out for a walk to unstiffen his legs from sitting with Alexei. If Jack or Todd woke up looking for him he wouldn't be gone long. Riley knew something was very wrong, but she didn't try to stop him. What she did do was go and wake up Jack as soon as MacGyver was out the front door. Mac didn't get very far before the waves of memory washed over him, temporarily drowning him. _He was already hurt … everywhere … and then the series of explosions … he didn't expect to survive, only that his captors wouldn't either …_ The tightness in his chest eased as soon as the cool night air hit his face, but the familiar rubbery feeling in his legs forced him to make the smart decision and just lean against the cold stone wall on the dark north side of the house. _Slamming into the wall ... greying out … Lids fluttering open … soft brown eyes looking into his, "Hey, you are alive!" in a good down-home American accent …_ He closed his eyes, gulping in air. _"Easy there bud … you're safe … We got all the bad guys." … Sweaty, in pain, miserably unable to move … "No … another camp … about twenty klicks west … I think Thompson is with …" Jack holding his arm gently so the medic could start and IV. "We'll get 'em, buddy. You did good." "Dalton, hold him, while I grab the straps. If he rips out another line I don't know where the hell I'll put the next one."_ Mac felt himself sliding down the wall and sitting on the cool dry earth. _Pain like fire in his chest and shoulder but knowing it was worth it because Thompson was still alive …_ _"Holy hell kid,_ _quit movin' … Got a nice souvenir almost in your chest, bud. Can't tell how deep. You must think you're Iron Man or somethin'_ … _Medic!_ _…"_ Mac hitched an uneven breath, almost a sob, but he could feel control returning slowly, although he wasn't quite conscious of why.

Mac realized after a minute of slow careful breathing that Jack was sitting on the ground next to him with an arm around his shoulders, talking him through his breathing very quietly and patiently. Mac pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them. Then he leaned his head forward to press the heels of his hands against his eyes, effectively drying the tears that were attempting to squeeze out without being too obvious about it. Not that Jack would say anything or make him feel bad about it. Not ever. But it was important to Mac. Control always was. He was not going to fall apart in the middle of a mission. He hadn't had a flashback in a long time and he wasn't going to give in to another wave of them now. Jack could read nearly all of this in the tired lines of his friend's face, but after years of trying to tell the kid that you didn't get to decide when your brain was going to smack you around with the things you'd seen, he knew better than to say so. Instead he just unscrewed the cap off a bottle of water and passed it into Mac's slightly trembling hand. Mac took a drink and after a minute squeezed it so some of the water would splash up into his face. He smoothed it around, using it to dampen the back of his neck which currently felt like it was on fire, despite the cool, extremely early, morning air. He wasn't quite ready to look at his partner yet, but Mac said quietly, "Thanks, Jack."

Jack was sitting with his knees up as well now, resting his arms on them and looking off into the dark, thinking he could see where the sky would begin to grey truly visibly very soon. It was his way of giving Mac a little space while the kid pulled himself back together. "Any time, brother; you know I've always got your back in all things." Mac was nodding, still looking very distant. "This one hittin' a little close to home, bud?"

"Yeah … I guess no matter how hard you try to bury them, some memories are going to come back."

"Like a bad zombie movie, Mac. Every damned time." Mac nodded again and looked almost like he wanted to say something, but couldn't. "Back on that mountain again, huh?"

"Umhm," was all Mac felt he had in him at the moment.

Jack put an arm around him again, hoping it was the right thing to do. How much space Mac was going to need was always kind of in question. "I sure as hell hope me treatin' you like a kid didn't …"

Mac interrupted. "No. Jack. I was a jerk …" Jack looked like he was about to go into one of his protective don't-you-dare-talk-bad-about-my-boy speeches but Mac needed to say this, especially since he's just come to a conclusion that could very likely get them killed. "Jack, I'm not gonna lie and say you don't drive me crazy sometimes … because you do … But, you know what? That's what family does! I let Nikki get in my head and it was stupid … I'm starting to think if we make it out of here I oughta just block her number and be done with it. But look, Jack," he paused. Jack was looking at him with that warm expression that sometimes made him want to cry, and sometimes made him want to yell, and most times just made him want to hug the jackass, even though he normally hated that kind of thing. "When you came for me in that cave … and then you were with me at the field hospital … and then there you were again when I woke up from surgery at the base hospital … I … no one had ever come back for me before." Jack's face briefly got the look Mac had come to think of as one-day-I-will-punch-this-kid's-dad. "Then after Peyna died and you came to me with the offer from DXS … I took it because it felt like … home. I knew I could count on you. I should be so lucky as to have you for a dad."

Jack felt there was a real possibility he was going to cry so he did what he always did in that situation; he cracked a joke. "Good. It's settled then. Papa Jack is a permanent fixture. So the next time you don't just tell me what's botherin' you instead of having a tantrum like you did back home, I'll take you behind the woodshed and whup your ass but good."

Mac laughed and all of the tension he'd built up during his brief panic attack slid off his shoulders. He glanced sideways at Jack before climbing to his feet, ready, no, needing, to move on. "Change of plans though."

Jack got up then and faced him with a grin. "You say change of plans and I hear explosions, and controlled chaos, and me gettin' to shoot some bad guys. Lay it on me, brother."

"We're not just going in after Kolya. We're going to get all those guys out. Whatever it takes."


	9. Chapter 9

The first explosion sent a rain of crumbling stone down on their heads. Jack let out a little whoop of triumph and Mac grinned as they crouched down and ran around the building to light the next fuse. Even over the sound of parts of the wall collapsing they could hear chaos ensuing inside. "This is workin' a lot better than the last time you made sugar bombs, Mac!"

"Yeah!" Mac shouted. "'Cause this time I had stuff for fuses!" He dodged as a larger chunk of wall nearly hit him as the next explosion went off. "Riley! How's the plan for exfil coming?" he called over the noise, hoping it wasn't causing too much interference on the comms.

"Well, after Matty swore at me for about five minutes …" Jack snickered and she pretended not to hear it. "She called in a few favors. There's a private airfield on the other side of Severny Airport not too far from here. She's got someone who owes her big bringing in medical supplies and fueling up something called a Kazhak? A Mi-17 or something ..."

"Matty the Hun got us a Hip! No way! Ima hafta kiss that woman."

"Slow your roll, Dalton," Matty's voice cut in over the noise. "That's a privilege you have to earn back."

"Earn _back_?" Mac nearly cackled. "I cannot wait to hear this story."

Gun fire joined the cacophony and Jack started scanning the darkness more carefully for threats.

"That's enough outta you, Blondie," Matty began, and she was about to ask how infiltrating the prison was going when she heard Mac's yelp of pain. "Mac? Mac? Dalton, talk to me."

"He's hit, Matty," was Jack's grim reply.

"I'm good," Mac insisted, a little breathlessly. "It's just a graze."

Riley interrupted. "If you guys can get everyone three blocks south without getting pinched, I've got a school bus waiting, thanks to my new friend Lexi, who apparently can hotwire as well as his hero Captain America … I mean Mac." She managed to sound totally on top of the situation, but knowing Mac was injured had, what Jack would have called, her Spidey-senses tingling. If Mac was admitting to a graze with no argument, it was probably worse.

"Sounds good, Ri," Jack said.

Everyone could hear Mac almost panting for a second over the comms.

Milton's voice interjected, "Jack I need help neutralizing the rest of the guards; on the hop, man."

Jack took a minute to assess his partner. "You really okay?"

"Yeah, Jack. Go help Milton. I'll try to meet up with Rodgers and we'll see about getting into the lower level." Jack nodded and took off through the smoke. As he moved through the yard himself, Mac asked, "What's your twenty, Steve?"

There was a pause before Rodgers' voice spoke in Mac's earpiece. "I think I've found an external entrance to the basement. I'm on the south side of the building. The one you haven't blown to shit yet."

Mac could hear the grin in Steve's voice as well as a fair amount of awe. "It's just homemade rocket fuel under some pressure."

"Yeah, well it's awesome. I think maybe I got the world's best new assignment. Science nerds unite."

Mac laughed, then sucked in his breath sharply. Steve heard it. "Graze, huh?"

Mac joined him behind some fallen debris at that moment. "More or less. Don't worry, I'll avail myself of your services once we get the hell out of here."

Steve looked him over briefly, satisfied that the wound in Mac's upper arm was leaking rather than gushing, but not happy that there was no obvious exit wound. "Alright, let's get your friend."

The noise all around them suggested a firefight, more debris falling, and the triumphant sounds of men who never thought they'd breathe free air again. Jack's voice rang over the comms, "We are go to exfil! Where my boys at?"

Rodgers answered, "Just heading underground for the package."

"Everybody alright?"

Mac just nodded at Rodgers, not wanting Jack to hear the pain in his voice. "We are five-by. Get those guys out of here. We'll take that shit box of a car. See you at the rendezvous."

"Mac?"

 _Goddamnit_. _The man would never just do what was expected, would he?_ "Five-by-five. Like the man says, Papa Jack. Jeez." Mac tried to put all the resentful teenager he could muster into his voice, hoping humor would mask the seriousness of his injury for now.

Rodgers spared him any further conversation by breaking the lock on the basement doors at that moment and calling, "Go, go, go!"

This particular medic had no compunction about carrying a gun so he took point moving down the stairs into the dimly lit dusty basement. Mac followed, squinting even though it was nearly dark down here. It was brighter than the un-illuminated yard. They tried a number of doors, finding mostly supply closets and one disturbing filthy bathroom. At the end of the hall they found a locked door. Mac used his knife to make an impromptu bump key, pretty sure he'd need a new blade, but thinking if anyone could understand someone breaking this heirloom for busting up a concentration camp it ought to be his Grandpa Harry (technically great grandpa, but Mac didn't think the universe really kept score like that; as Jack often said, family was family).

In the room on the other side was his friend Kolya. Mac stood stock still for a moment and just took in the man, naked except for a pair of dirty boxers of indeterminate color and streaked with the man's blood, exposed skin corpse-pale and streaked with more blood, head hanging on his chest, dark limp hair falling around his unshaven face. For one sickening second Mac thought he was dead, and then for another, he almost hoped that was true, knowing exactly how surviving capture and torture could mark a man, and Kolya wasn't a soldier, wasn't a trained agent; he was a journalist who just happened to think that sometimes information was so important you had to do more than report it. Then Kolya lifted his head and smiled. It was a sickly smile, around dry, cracking lips and receding gums, but it was a smile, nevertheless. There was the whispered almost unbelieving word, "MacGyver," before Mac was hauled off his feet from behind by someone twice his size, and if the death hold the man had on him was any indication, fresh as a daisy, and uninjured. Mac was slammed brutally into the stone wall several times. He felt a sharp pain down one side. He heard gunshots and a scuffle, then his head connected solidly with the wall.

Mac heard several more shots fired and Jack's voice in his ear before the comm was yanked from it and stomped, "Mac! I'm comin' back."

Everything went black.

0-0-0

The first thing Mac noticed as he regained consciousness was his throbbing head and vaguely sick stomach, signifying at least a mild concussion. Then he took in his pained shallow breathing. _Yeah, those ribs are probably broken. Hopefully they aren't poking into anything too important._ Finally, he was aware of the stiff dampness of this sleeve and the side of his shirt that said he'd lost more blood; if how his arm was throbbing was any indication, it had been a lot more than a graze, and wasn't a simple through and through. The bullet was still hanging around somewhere near his shoulder waiting to cause no end of future problems. Once he'd processed all the major damage, he could feel a zip tie around his wrists. His hands were secured behind him, but beyond that he wasn't bound, or the pain would probably be a lot worse. He reluctantly forced his eyes open.

A bare overhead bulb illuminated the room. It was a supply closet. Pain aside, Mac couldn't suppress his grin.

 _I know what you're thinking … And you're wrong … Well, if I wasn't me, you'd be right. This guy's been shot, grabbed by the bad guys, beat up, and thrown in some closet! What the hell is he smiling for? Well, I'll tell you. My grandfather always used to say that you're only beat when you quit. And you only quit when you run out of tools. Locking me in a supply closet is basically like giving me a well-stocked toolbox. Oh … yeah … I haven't forgotten that my hands are tied. That's actually the easy part. Well, maybe not easy, but not complicated._

Mac took a deep breath, knowing the first part of this maneuver was going to be the hardest. He did his best to relax, but relaxation was hard to come by knowing exactly how badly this was going to hurt. His brain was doing its best to throw another flashback his way and he clamped down on it, focusing almost desperately at the task at hand. Young Mac had responded to the pain when his first combat injury ripped through him by freaking out a little, sure he was going to die. He always felt at least a little piece of that. He wouldn't say so to Jack, but it was at least half the reason he was always so surly when he was injured. _MacGyver!_ he barked at himself, using the same mental tactic that had kept him going all those years ago. _You wanna be hurt or you wanna be dead?!_ His more conscious self knew the easy answer, just like it had then. _Well, good. Your hands need to be in front of you! So get them there._ Carefully, fighting through his own instinctive resistance to the pain he knew was coming, Mac stretched his arms far enough to slip his backside and legs through his arms. It stretched his shoulders almost past the point of tolerance and he could feel the wound high up on his arm begin to bleed more freely. He sat panting for a few moments, resting his head against a nearby shelf. He hoped Steve had gotten Kolya out with the rest of the recently liberated prisoners.

After he caught his breath, Mac leaned forward contemplating his boot laces. They were tightly tied and damp. _Well, hell_. He tried to undo them with his bound hands, but with no success. Sighing heavily, Mac leaned forward and used his teeth to assist his swelling, restricted hands in unknotting the laces. He was quickly losing feeling in his fingers, but he managed to tie the laces around the zip ties. Sawing his hands back and forth, the ties broke about a minute and a half later. He looked at his wrists. Satisfied that he'd freed himself without opening another wound, Mac got up and tried the door. It was locked as he'd suspected. He looked around at the contents of the small closet. He grinned again, seeing both basic kitchen and bathroom supplies on the shelves. There was aluminum foil, drain cleaner, and matches. He could get out of here.

Mac had under-anticipated the concussion of the blast in the poorly ventilated closet and was knocked unconscious and sprawling by the force. Shades of his first meeting with Jack. Then, as with that unhappy memory, the next thing he knew, Jack was beside him trying to patch him up enough to move him and reassure him at the same time. Mac knew he'd managed to get out of there under his own power, or at least on his feet, although heavily assisted by Jack. He vaguely remembered getting to the car which thankfully started on the first try. The next thing Mac was really aware of was the vague sound of a helicopter taking off, the noises of the other men, some in pain or frightened, but all of them determined to be a part of the team getting them to safety, and Steve's voice right next to him. "Hey, Mac. How you holding up, buddy?"

Mac groaned slightly before answering. "I'm super great. Can't ya tell?"

"Yeah, seems like. Look, I'm trying to find a good place to start an IV and I can't seem to locate one I like."

Mac sighed. "I've got shitty veins, or so I've been told."

"Recommendations? Preferences?"

"Nowhere?" Mac half-joked. "I hate needles so it doesn't really matter. Do what you have to, man. It's gonna suck regardless."

Then he heard a warm familiar voice that relaxed him, made him forget his pain for at least a second. "Back of his hand. Left hand. He's still gonna hate it, but it almost always works and it won't get in his way too bad." Jack sat on the floor by the makeshift gurney and took Mac's right hand, as if to reinforce his words.

Jack was right. Mac still looked away and flinched at the poke of the needle, but Steve had steady hands and was successful on the first stick. Only seconds later Mac could feel the line being taped down and the cool infusion of saline starting, making him feel slightly shivery. Jack immediately took off his jacket and draped it over Mac, knowing just how unpleasant the chill of IV solutions could be. Just about everything hurt, but Mac could formulate enough coherent thought to look at Jack and ask, "Did everybody get out? Kolya? Lex? And …"

Jack's eyes were over bright, but he rushed to reassure his friend, "Everybody on our side made it out, kiddo. You were probably the worst injury except ..."

As banged up as he was, Mac knew that expression, that tone, so he pushed, "Jack?"

Jack sighed, "It's gonna be a little touch and go for Nikolai, Mac … But we're transferring onto a jet in Turkey and getting everyone to Norway ASAP. Not only are they taking refugees like these men, but their medical care is second to none."

Mac sighed with relief, which was stopped short when he saw Rodgers with a syringe poised above his IV line. "Hey, don't …"

Steve was prepared to ignore Mac, who had a bit of a reputation with the Phoenix medical staff. Besides, a lot of guys insisted they didn't need pain meds, even if being stabbed with a big needle wasn't what they were worried about, but Jack stepped in. "Yeah, morphine is a bad idea, brother."

"He's been shot and beaten like a rented mule, Jack, and I'm not sure but I think he's got some broken ribs," Steve argued.

"It doesn't do what it's supposed to for Mac, dude. Whatever it does to him ... it's not good."

Mac added, his voice tightening with another wave of pain, "It makes me want to tear my face off and then just keep tearing until all I have is a big handful of Mac face confetti. And it just makes the pain worse. Jack has seen it."

Mac only sort of remembered after the medic had jabbed him in Afghanistan, but he did remember how much the shot had hurt, and how wired and weird he'd felt afterward, how the pain seemed to ramp up with every passing second, and overhearing someone say the effects lasted for at least four hours. The thought of spending four hours like that had made him want to scream. He remembered feeling a hand just resting on his arm that was frustratingly strapped to the bed, apparently because he kept pulling out his IV although he didn't remember doing that, and a gentle voice talking in hushed soothing tones about horses and riding all day, cooking steaks out on the grill after, about pretty girls and cold beers; about home. When the injection wore off enough, someone else had brought him some pills that had allowed him to finally, blissfully drift off to sleep. He didn't know the man's name, but until his dying day he would be pretty damned sure that if angels existed they had green eyes and brown hair. Jack remembered all of it and it was worse than anything Mac's brain had let him in on. Steve nodded and handed the morphine off to someone else. Mac thought it might have been Riley, who moved away like it was an everyday part of her job. Steve looked from Mac to Jack, honestly more worried about the reaction of the latter. "I just want Mac to be comfortable and I need him to keep still, to keep cavitation to a minimum to reduce further damage from the bullet. Graze my ass, Angus MacGyver," he said in Mac's direction, with good natured irritation. Ignoring Mac's non-verbal frowning protest toward any medication, he said to Jack quietly, "I don't want to use straps. How does he tolerate benzos?"

Jack shook his head, glancing his apology at Mac for not even consulting him, but not liking the idea of Mac needing to be strapped down either, especially after the way Mac's eyes had widened when he heard Steve's quiet comment. "I don't remember if he's ever had them. Worth a try though, I guess."

Mac was ready to argue, but saw that Steve already discarding a syringe in the box he was taking from patient to patient. The medic was looking at him very apologetically, but Mac could tell from the vague rush of warmth in his arm that it wasn't going to be bad like morphine. In fact, he could feel himself getting relaxed and dozy in spite of the pain. At least he didn't feel cold anymore. He actually felt decent enough for a small joke. "That's not super solider serum, right?"

Steve patted him on the arm with a grin. For someone who had a reputation as a terrible patient, he found Mac to be one of his easier cases of the night. "It's called Versed. Knowing you've had surgery before, you've probably had it. It won't do much for the pain but it'll chill you out and make you tired. I swear you'll just be the same level of super you are now when you wake up, Mac." He moved off toward his next patient.

Jack settled onto the floor next to MacGyver. Mac drowsily said, "I thought you wanted to fly a Hip …"

Jack took Mac's free hand in his a little more firmly and squeezed it. "Well, I handled takeoff, but I figured our new buddy Todd earned some flight time. Besides, I thought you might need me back here. I know your basic opinion of medical types and how much you like bein' a pin cushion …"

"I'm glad you got to fly this bird a little, Jack," Mac mumbled sleepily. "You didn't need to come back here with me though. I'm okay, I think …" His eyes started to drift closed.

He didn't see Jack's eyes fill, and with the warmth that was flooding his veins he didn't hear the quaver in his friend's voice either. "I will always come back for you, Mac. You're my boy."


	10. Chapter 10

Less than forty-eight hours later, the rest of the team would have been hard-pressed to convince anyone on the outside that Mac had been badly hurt and needed surgery on his shoulder to remove a bullet and repair the damage it had done. He was clear-eyed, in complete command of his faculties, and ready to stage a daring escape if he didn't get his way pretty soon. When Riley came through the door of his hospital room, he was sitting up, arguing with the pretty blonde nurse as well as Steve, who was trying to be the team's voice of reason, although he was only doing so as a favor to Jack who was off taking care of Phoenix business as the default team leader with Mac out of commission. Steve wasn't trying all that hard. Mac's reputation preceded him, and Steve figured he'd rather lose the battle over this than lose the trust he might need from Mac back out in the field. Making a last ditch effort, if only to stay off Dalton's shit list, Steve said that European hospitals were known for keeping people admitted for longer. They were just more careful than their American counterparts. Mac was having none of it.

"Four more days is ridiculous. If I were back in LA I would've been kicked out of bed ten minutes after I woke up from surgery. I've already been here almost a day and a half." He was still irritated that he'd spent most of the previous day groggy from surgery and the pain meds no one had asked him if he'd wanted.

Steve just held up his hands and tossed Riley a half grin as he sat back down in the chair Jack had reluctantly given up to him. This was the terrible patient Rodgers had heard about. Stubborn as a mule. When Steve had initially sided with the nurse, Mac asked him, in what only sort of sounded like a joking voice, if he thought it was likely for more than one Steve Rodgers to survive being a Cap-cicle since they were extremely close to the Arctic and could potentially test it out. Steve thought Mac was so convinced of his own hyper-fast injury recovery (in which Steve read not actual healing, but a high pain tolerance) that if they were going to start ribbing each other with comic book references, he'd have to think of a good X-man nickname to saddle Mac with.

The nurse was giving her patient a practiced smile, but it was becoming increasingly strained as he argued. As soon as they'd started tapering off his medication a little and he was slightly more awake he'd removed his IV and flatly refused to have another one placed, saying that was a hospital regulation rooted in convenience for staff and not the wellbeing of patients and then rattled off a list of statistics explaining why it was both unnecessary and unreasonable. Now, he was asking for discharge orders before he'd even had breakfast, citing practices in American healthcare. She couldn't imagine the American system where it seemed insurers decided what was best for patients. She would take a whiny patient who buzzed the central station every five minutes over one who quoted numbers and studies at her and resisted the most basic aspects of treatment any day of the week. If he wasn't so damned cute she might actually be mad! But it was difficult to be really upset with him and she'd certainly dealt with patients like him before. "Mr. MacGyver our standards of care here are very high and your surgeon recommends …"

"Nosocomial infection is the greatest statistical post-surgical risk to otherwise healthy people. And international best practice recommends rapid discharge in the case of fully ambulatory patients to minimize exposure." He was practically daring her to argue with him. Steve was having a hard time not laughing at this point. He thought about saying something, but was getting too much entertainment value out of this.

"Yes, sir, but the greatest risk of hospital-acquired infection you would have is at an IV catheter site, which you have, most conveniently, already cleaned and bandaged. After you removed the port." Her smile tightened with some annoyance.

"One less thing for you to take care of before I leave, right?"

She was mildly reproachful, cajoling. "I really should insist on starting another line. The orders were for a second round of antibiotics ... You shouldn't have removed it yourself."

Mac shook his head and said in a voice touched with real stubbornness, "But I did."

Steve had tried to stay quiet but could no longer resist. "He did a good job of it, too."

Mac latched onto Steve's contribution. "See? I came with my very own medic. Just get the doctor to sign the papers and send them to my boss."

This was a losing battle. Nurse Solheim just hadn't realized it yet. "I'll discuss it with him after the mid-day meal, sir."

"It's only nine in the morning." He wasn't trying to sound petulant or look particularly vulnerable, but with the massive case of bed head and his general aura of misery, he managed to look all of seventeen. Always a keen observer, he saw the slight softening of her features, and instead of getting defensive, tried a different approach. "You're not really gonna make me wait around until afternoon for you to talk to him are you?"

"It would be better if …"

"Nurse Solheim …"

"Please," she said almost before she could reconsider it, "Call me Astrid."

"Thank you, Astrid. But four days? I know you're just doing your job. And I can tell you're very good at it, but ... forty more minutes and I might start climbing the walls. Literally. That won't be very good for my recovery either."

She knew she was being played, but she decided that she didn't mind. This American was very handsome, very charming, and honestly made very good points about his own condition. She justified her acquiescence with the thought that one less argumentative patient on the floor would make her day smoother. She'd spent fifteen minutes in here already. She sighed. "Alright. Mr. MacGyver …"

"Call me Mac," he interrupted with his most disarming grin.

"Alright … Mac. Dr. Landvik should be on the floor shortly. I'll speak to him before he begins rounds."

Mac turned up the wattage on his smile, "Thank you so much."

"You …" the nurse cleared her throat. "You're very welcome. Mac."

Riley hadn't even really gotten comfortable in her chair, but she got up to follow the nurse out. "I'll go get you a change of clothes." Riley grinned and shook her head. "Jack's always claiming you've got no game, but now I see … you're actually kind of a player when you wanna be. You just flirted your way to an early discharge, I'm pretty sure."

Mac shrugged, wincing slightly at the pull on his shoulder and what had turned out to be only badly bruised ribs, and flushed just a bit. "Maybe a little."

Jack passed Riley just outside the door to Mac's room. "Where you headin', Ri?"

"To get Mac's stuff so he can get dressed."

"Wait, what?" She just gave him an overly elaborate shrug and continued down the hall to grab the elevator and walk the short distance to their hotel, glad she was going to miss the mini-Papa Jack freakout that was bound to ensue, but she knew from past experience that it was unlikely to change Mac's mind.

Jack strode into the room already giving Mac his disapproving eyebrows and sat down stiffly in one of the visitor's chairs next to Rodgers. "Good morning, Steven," he said formally. "Good morning, Angus."

Mac flinched. Jack only used his real name when he was about to go into full-lecture mode. At least the middle name didn't get thrown out there yet. "Hey Jack. Were you able to get breakfast? Todd stopped in a while ago and said the cafeteria here really puts the ones stateside to shame."

Steve laughed and got up, thinking the two of them were used to processing after a mission alone together anyway, and that if he didn't get another cup of coffee he'd be almost as grumpy as Mac had been when the nurse first told him about the proposed length of his treatment plan. "Don't be too hard on him, Dalton. I just witnessed one of the most impressive instances of a guy flirting to get their way that I've ever seen. And he turned on a dime to do it. A thin dime. First it was all, 'This little shit took out his own IV and I'm gonna go get an orderly to sit on him so I can put it back; not gently,' and then he turns on the charm a little and she's practically putty in his hands. 'Oh, Mac, please call me Astrid ...'" he batted his eyelashes and Mac tossed him a mostly playful glare.

"Damn it all, Mac, I bought that woman breakfast to get her to hold a hard line with you!"

Steve left the room laughing, thinking he'd go find Milton and start talking about how to handle their first debrief as part of Team Thunder Stallions (how Jack always referred to himself, Mac, and Riley, although the younger team members didn't know it). Mac chuckled, too. "Sorry, man. I guess Astrid is immune to both cafeteria pastry and your questionable charms."

"I mean I can see resisting one or the other, but both?" Jack forced a laugh, then looked at him seriously. "I'm tryin' real hard not to go full dad on you right now … but you scared me a little, bud." Mac frowned. None of his injuries had been that serious. "After the flashbacks and everything … you gettin' grabbed … and then you were just so damned docile on the helicopter … Not to mention you were pretty out of it yesterday ..."

"Because _somebody_ let them keep me all doped up! Which better never happen again, by the way!" Mac said with just a little heat.

"I don't know, man." Jack went on, not about to let Mac change the subject. "I was worried you might just bail before it was safe. You've done it before. And I thought you were doin' that 'get trapped in your own head' thing that happened after …"

"Jack," Mac began, waving his hand to invite his partner closer. Instead of pulling the chair over, Jack just moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I promise you that won't ever happen again. I'll talk to you … I didn't do my usual stubborn thing because honestly Steve has proven himself. He's part of the team. Also, you were there so I figured you guys would gang up on me anyway." His voice was light and confident, but there was something that still felt slightly off to Jack. Mac's eyes were oddly cold; this felt like a full-on ' _walls up_ ' situation. It was one of the reasons that he'd brought up light sedation to Steve, who'd communicated it, with a somewhat dubious raised eyebrow, to the hospital staff. Mac was so determined to be in control, to hold everything and everyone together that the only way he ever stopped was when he was out like a light. He also knew that Mac hated hospitals, doctors, anything to do with either, and he knew the reason, although he'd never brought up Mac's pain-induced confession in the helicopter shortly after they'd met. Mac knew Jack was probably responsible for his dozy semi-lucid state yesterday, but he was actually trying not to be pissed off about it. He _had_ kind of escaped a hospital when they first met. Granted it was just a field hospital, but even though it had saved some lives, it had come very close to getting Mac killed. Jack wasn't ever going to forget waiting for that evac and Mac knew it. He shrugged, hiding the wince that the almost involuntary gesture caused much more successfully this time. "Honest, Jack, I'm good. I feel like the worst thing that happened is they took my knife off me before they threw me in the closet to get me out of the way and when I came to I was too focused on getting out to think about looking for it."

Jack lost his serious look for a second and fished something out of his pocket. Mac's face brightened further when Jack put his slightly busted Swiss Army knife into his hand. "Your phone was crushed to powder, but I found this on the ground in the hallway I dragged you out of. It's gonna need a new blade. What the hell did you do to it, anyway?"

"Opened a lock the hard way," Mac frowned, thinking of the state they'd found Kolya in. "How is … everybody?" He pulled the name at the last second, welcoming Jack's ability to soften any blow at the moment.

Jack got back up and pulled a chair closer to the bed. He raised his eyebrows at Mac until he leaned back into his pillows with an irritated sigh. "Everybody's good. Matty has been crackin' the whip and coverin' our tracks to look like a private aid effort gone wrong and causing a riot and the subsequent evacuation assisted by an international task force to get people to safety, so we've avoided an international incident. Although she's not really done yelling at me for us blowing up that jail yet. That's okay. She more than paid for it with the Kazhak. I've always wanted to get my hands on one. The Norwegian government is being more than welcoming and is already settling some of the guys who were well enough to not need to be admitted into refugee housing."

"That's good," Mac said carefully. He didn't like that Jack didn't bring up Kolya first, but he supposed that was why he'd asked his question the way he had to begin with.

"Alexei is doing really well. I think he's gained five pounds already. We've got him a room at the hotel and he's mostly following Ri around like a puppy, asking her a million questions about being an analyst, and about hacking, not to mention getting an update on all the latest American movies and music." Jack paused. The news was good in a way, but he wasn't sure what Mac would make of it. "Nikolai is here in the hospital. Had to have his spleen removed, and he was pretty badly dehydrated, malnourished. Quite a few broken bones. He'll probably need to stay here for a few of weeks, maybe a month."

"Aw, man. That sucks. He hates sitting around almost as much as I do."

"But he doesn't hate hospitals anywhere near as much as you apparently," Jack chuckled. "He seems pretty happy with clean sheets, food on demand, and the attention of nurses who are all aflutter over what he risked to save his brother." Mac smiled. Leave it to Kolya to make the best of any situation. "Matty wants us to hang here until he's been discharged." Mac frowned again, but more in confusion than concern. "She's offered to facilitate the Sokolovs' relocation to the U.S. and of course they both agreed. Matty thinks they can provide enough information to get a solid investigation into the human rights issues going on over there a good start. They could use an escort."

Riley came back into the room and dropped Mac's bag onto the bed between his feet. "Thanks, Ri!" Mac started to get out of bed, but heaved a frustrated sigh when he remembered how not dressed he was. He pulled on a pathetically thin bathrobe over the ubiquitous gown. No matter what country you woke up in, if you woke up in a hospital you'd be wearing one of those damned things. Mac was more than half convinced it was so people would be less likely to just get up and leave. With the minute tying the robe took, Jack tried one last ditch effort to get his friend to hang around for a little more supervised rest.

"Mac, we're gonna be here for weeks waiting for Kolya to recover enough to fly anyway. And Matty's not tapping you for any more missions until a doc at Phoenix gives you the all-clear." Mac glared at him slightly, thinking it wouldn't be below Jack to play up his injuries to Matty. "So why don'tcha just chill out here for another day or two. Maybe you can get the lovely Nurse Astrid's number if you lay on the charm heavy enough."

Mac grabbed up his bag and was halfway to the bathroom already. "Not a chance. I've never gotten to just visit Norway for pleasure before. I'm gonna rock the tourist thing so hard, you're gonna want to buy me a camera and a bad outfit." Mac closed the bathroom door before Jack could come up with a response.

When he came out a while later (getting dressed with a bum arm was about as much fun as he remembered) Astrid and the tall, pale, very stern looking Dr. Landvik were entering the room. Riley really didn't want to be around to watch Mac argue with all three of them so she got up and took Mac's bag from him. "I'll go take this back to the hotel for you, Mac." He smiled his thanks. "Besides I've been out for a while and I don't want to leave Lex alone for too long. I'm afraid he's gonna try to take apart my rig."

Mac chuckled, "He would, too. The sooner we can get him enrolled in a technical program stateside, the happier the world will be." Then he sat down in one of the visitor's chairs next to Jack, making it very clear to everyone in the room that he was not, for love nor money, getting back into that bed. He flashed a smile that Jack thought would have made James Bond jealous. There was nothing of the tentativeness that Jack was frequently used to hearing from Mac when he spoke to people he considered to be in positions of authority either. "Good morning, Doctor. I'm sure Nurse Solheim has already let you know I plan to leave today. I assume that's the necessary paperwork."

The doctor frowned, a face he was used to causing patients to become instantly compliant. "Mr. MacGyver, I understand your desire to be released …"

Mac cut him off. "The sooner the better, Doc."

"I would prefer, first, to examine ..."

"I think I'll pass, if you don't mind. Discharge papers. _Raskt, vær så snill_."

The flustered older man turned to leave saying only, "Give us ten minutes, sir."

Then Jack did laugh, thinking he would be glad to get Mac out of the hospital now, if only to get him to open up about what was really going on in his head. "Did you just tell that crusty old doctor to hurry his ass up?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah. I pretty much did."


	11. Chapter 11

Mac hadn't been kidding when he said he was going to treat their unplanned detour to Norway as a touristy vacation. He kept Alexei occupied, taking him to all the local sights and getting him to Snapchat his brother so he could enjoy some of Oslo, too, even if it had to be vicariously. They saw all the museums, the Botanical Gardens, the Norwegian Royal Palace, visiting the Munch Museum and the Vigeland Sculpture Park almost daily. At night Mac suggested all manner of diversions for the group; the opera, the ballet, music festivals, guided tours. On the weekends he led everyone around to sample best street food he and Lex had found over the course of the previous week. When he wasn't doing that, he visited Kolya in the hospital, keeping him entertained with stories of Alexei blossoming in a place that valued its young people and welcomed people in, and sneaking in a fair amount of the good street food they'd discovered. He video chatted with Bozer, and since his best friend had, in the rest of the team's absence, started seeing Beth, the cute blond girl with glasses who also worked as a tech in the lab, they mostly talked about whether or not it was too soon for him to be thinking about moving in with her and how Mac would feel about not having his roomie around to make waffles every morning. Mac spoke of their mission very little, always seemed to be elsewhere when they had conference calls with Matty, and didn't complain once about wearing the sling he'd left the hospital with as prescribed, nor did he mention getting back to work. Jack watched all of this with quiet interest. He's seen this behavior on Mac before. If he kept his body busy and his mind occupied constantly, he didn't have to deal with what was going on beneath the surface. And maybe he wouldn't dream. It hadn't been working as well as Mac thought. He and Jack were sharing a room. Every night Jack heard the pained and sometimes hunted way Mac mumbled in his sleep.

0-0-0

Despite lining them out in person for going off-script and destroying the entire camp and needing to get the team plus twenty other people out of Chechnya at the last minute, their debrief made it clear that Matty was very pleased with her team. She congratulated all of them on what turned out to be a successful mission and asked if they all felt comfortable making the personnel arrangements more permanent when missions dictated it. Everyone was agreeable, especially Jack, who said he was more than happy to add some fire power to the team and they almost always needed a Bandaid. Matty blew what Steve thought of as his 'cover' by informing them that he wasn't just a medic but a full-fledged doctor who had been a field surgeon in Iraq and Afghanistan. Jack had asked incredulously what the hell he was doing out in the field instead of setting up a cushy practice somewhere warm and getting rich and fat. Steve's response only solidified his place on the team. "I move fast and bore easy, Dalton."

Matty then asked to speak to the team individually for a few minutes each. Mac had volunteered to go first. He said he'd had about all the sitting he could take and he wanted to head down to his office and make sure someone had kept his plants alive while they'd been stuck overseas. Jack wound up hanging around and speaking to Matty last. After the last time Chechnya had been involved in their relationship, he wasn't eager to get the backside chewing he was bound to get for letting Mac rewrite the endgame and then get shot, even though such a lecture was probably richly reserved. Instead, after Todd closed the door behind himself, and Jack took his seat at the table, he found Matty smiling at him. "You did good, Jackass."

He gave a small nervous laugh. "I thought you were gonna be mad at me."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked, knowing full well why that had been his expectation, and wanting, very much, to change that today. "You seamlessly integrated two new and very necessary members into your team, performed a very important humanitarian mission that, while it wasn't the original objective, needed to happen. And you got everyone home in one piece. Not too shabby."

Jack smiled, almost shyly. "Does that at least start to erase how bad I screwed up our trip to Chechnya?"

She narrowed her eyes in the way they had all come to understand was playful. "Mostly."

"How about those privileges you mentioned?"

At that moment, Steve knocked on the door. Matty waved and he stuck his head in, "Hey, if you guys are almost done, Mac wants all of us to go get a beer together."

"He's been missin' that fire pit of his I guess." Jack smiled. He liked the idea of Mac settling back in at home. Maybe he'd start to open up a little and sleep better.

"Oh, not at his place," Steve said. "At that place up the street you like, Dalton. The karaoke joint."

Jack frowned. "This was Mac's idea?" Steve nodded, not sure what was up. " _Mac_ suggested going where the people are and that he will voluntarily listen to me sing karaoke?"

"Um, yeah. He's bet Todd fifty bucks that he won't sing ' _Don't Go Breakin' My Heart_ ' with you. And I'm here to tell you that if you buy him a couple of tequilas you could get him to be Cher to your Sonny on ' _I Got You Babe_ '."

"Sounds like fun," Matty said, effectively dismissing Rodgers. "What's wrong, Jack?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, Matty. Mac's just not himself. I can't really put my finger on it, but …"

She shook her head affectionately. "Don't go all Big Brother on him, Dalton. You guys just got home." She got up, indicating the door.

Jack followed. "I'm doin' my best, boss. Now, about those privileges …"

Matty smiled. "Buy me a beer, Jack. Then we'll talk."

0-0-0

The bar had been noisy and crowded, filled with a lot of enthusiastic karaoke singers that were really feeling a beautiful Friday night. Mac won fifty dollars when Todd chickened out of singing with Jack, and everyone won some tremendous entertainment when Bozer hopped right up on the stage to fill in. Eventually Todd had enough tequila in him that he did a very humorous falsetto version of ' _The Lion Sleeps Tonight'_ and it was on social media before he had even stumbled off the stage. Mac ate wings, drank beer, laughed, and said all the right things, looking completely at home. Riley had the fleeting thought that it looked more like one of the defensive adaptations she had observed on a mission, but he bought her another beer and then she got a video call from Kalei so she never had a chance to ask him if he was okay and it slipped her mind before she could mention to Jack how off he seemed. Bozer was so caught up in showing off for Beth, who seemed to really appreciate his antics, that he didn't notice Mac's look of relief when he let his roommate know he was staying at her place for the weekend. He wanted his head on straight before he had to go back to work on Monday and a weekend by himself to just kind of let down after this long and difficult mission sounded like heaven. Sometime in the middle of ' _Don't Stop Believing_ ' which was, quite possibly, Jack's favorite karaoke song, Mac grabbed his jacket and slipped out the door, finally ready for some time alone so he could sort out the turmoil in his head. When Mac got home, he found his door unlocked and the lights on. Hand on his new cell phone and ready to call the police if he needed to, Mac eased the door open, expecting to find a very inept burglar. The blue eyed blonde who turned around in her seat on the couch was equally unexpected and unwelcome.

"Hello, Mac."

"Nikki?"

"Where the hell have you been?"


	12. Chapter 12

Mac's brow wrinkled and his head tilted in a familiar expression that said very clearly, "You can't be serious," although no words actually left his mouth. He stepped more fully into the house, looking around. The place was trashed, cushions on the floor, drawers open, papers scattered. Finally he found his voice, "I don't think you get to be the one asking questions right now."

She stopped sifting through his belongings and stood, "Don't I? I've been trying to reach you for over a month!"

He shook his head almost like he needed to clear it. "Yeah, my phone got … trashed. I had to get a new one."

She brushed her hair out of her face. "You didn't think to text me your new number?" His frown drew into deeper lines. "I mean, we've been texting again quite a bit. Or at least we had been …"

"I don't owe you an explanation, Nikki." The words were out of his mouth before he'd really thought about them and he felt a little bad when he saw her flinch, but it felt honest. He couldn't count on her honesty, but he could always give it to her.

She took a few steps toward him, but when he unconsciously dropped one foot back in the beginnings of a fighting stance she stopped. Her face was flushed with emotion, her hair disheveled by what appeared to have been a frantic search of his house. She looked beautiful. She saw that thought register in his eyes and took one more cautious step forward. "Mac … I've been worried. You blew me off the last time I saw you. Then you didn't return my calls or my texts. I thought if you wanted to just end things, a guy like you would've at least had the decency to say so …"

Mac brushed past her and into his living room, picking up the copy of _Popular Mechanics_ nearest his feet and tossing it back onto the coffee table. "So you thought to yourself, 'This guy doesn't want to talk to me so I'll go fix that by breaking into his home and trashing his stuff'?"

"No … I showed up last week to just try to make you talk to me and Bozer said you weren't here and then he got all weird … well, you know, more weird … He got not-like-Bozer. And he wouldn't tell me anything else and he looked like he wanted to be sick! Like he was scared, Mac!"

Mac's eyes narrowed. Everything with Nikki was always so dramatic. He'd loved that about her three years ago when they'd started dating, but now, with a little time and distance, it struck him as not a particularly healthy way for things to be. Jack had been dropping subtle hints about that almost since it had begun. Honestly, so had Bozer. He'd been telling himself that they were jealous, but who was he kidding? Nikki was the one always subtly pointing out their shortcomings, always saying little things to make him question their relationships. "So you hacked our security system and searched my house? To catch Bozer in a lie? To try to find me? What?"

She gave him her widest most innocent looking eyes, pursed her lips in a way he had always found appealing. "I don't know. I guess I needed to find out if you were okay."

So much for his quiet night alone to just process things. In a familiar mental maneuver, he opened another door in his mind and started shoving this incident down into the dark where most of his experiences related to Nikki since Lake Como had gone. It was starting to give him a headache already. Mac gave a frustrated sigh and started picking up the other magazines that were scattered on the floor, more so he wouldn't have to look at her hurt expression. "Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay."

She stepped up next to him. "I'm sorry I did this. I'll clean it up."

Mac turned to her and gave her a hard look in the eyes. She wasn't sorry she'd done it. He was pretty sure she was sorry she'd gotten caught. "I'd rather you didn't. Why don't you just go Nikki? If I want to talk to you, I'll give you a call."

That felt a little mean since the fact that he hadn't spared her a thought after losing his old phone clearly cut her. But he didn't take it back. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder and when he moved to pull away, her fingers tightened to keep him from leaving, and she was surprised by his hiss of pain and the stumbling step backward he took.

"Mac! Are you ..?"

He sat down hard on his coffee table, narrowing his eyes, other hand holding the spot high on his arm. "I'm fine. Just barely got the last of my stitches out. Still sore. Really sore."

"What happened? I …"

"Bullet wounds take time to heal." He didn't remind her that it had taken four months after Lake Como to really feel like himself again, but he could see that he didn't have to.

"Mac, I'm so sorry, I …"

The hand that was holding the throbbing spot on his arm strayed away to massage his temple. "Nikki, I can't do this right now."

"Do what?"

"Us … This … Whatever it is you want from me, I don't have it to give." He sounded cold, distant; not the Mac she was used to.

"At least let me clean up this mess I made. You're hurt."

Mac shook his head, stood, and walked with long sure strides over to the door and opened it. "Nikki … please just go."

She came over to the doorway and stood in front of him for a minute. "Mac, I need to talk to you. There are things I need to tell you about …"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Like I said, when I want to hear them, I have your number."

Her eyes flared with a spark of something he didn't much like the look of and she squared her shoulders and strode out the door. He was about to close it when she snapped, "I'll be in touch, Mac."

 _Great. I'm sure that'll be fun._

Instead of responding he just swung the door the rest of the way closed. He cast a defeated glance around the living room and kitchen. This was a total disaster area. No way he could relax until it was cleaned up. He started by putting things back into drawers and closing them and the cupboards. By the time he finished that, his shoulder was an absolute symphony of misery. He decided to have a long hot shower, change into some sweats, and then deal with the rest of the mess, maybe while catching up on whatever Bozer had DVR'd for him while he was away. As he stood under the spray, all of the things he'd been stuffing away into the corners of his mind all wanted to crowd each other out for his attention and his headache upped its game.

He pulled on his sweats and one of Jack's Dallas Cowboy t-shirts that he'd appropriated when it was forgotten after a weekend here recovering from a rough mission. It was much too big and extremely soft, much softer than it appeared. Mac grinned to himself when he thought it was sort of a perfect metaphor for Jack. He padded across the floor in his socks, reluctantly taking a prescription bottle out of his leather jacket. He frowned at it for a minute. His head hurt, his shoulder hurt, but … He put it down on the counter, deciding that the pain relief really wasn't worth the nightmares that those sorts of medications always seemed to let in, not when he was alone in the house anyway. He didn't want to feel any of that. Physical pain was much easier to deal with.

Mac looked around again and just couldn't face the idea of picking up the mess at the moment. He was just too tired. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, swallowed a couple of clearly inadequate to the task ibuprofen and went out onto the deck. He stood looking out at the city for a long time, feeling almost completely numb. Slowly he realized that his shirt felt damp. _Is it raining?_ He looked up and then felt the warm tears that had just leaked from the corners of his eyes slide down his face. _Oh._ He sunk down onto the floorboards, listening to all the voices of memories he didn't want to have shouting to be heard over each other. After a while he nodded, like he was agreeing with someone's wise suggestion, pulled out his phone, and tapped a number.

"Hey Jack. Did I wake you? Can you come over?"


	13. Chapter 13

Jack had been more than a little concerned by the quiet emotionless voice Mac had used during their phone call and his sense of unease grew when he pulled up to Mac's house and found all the lights blazing from the windows. When he walked through the living room and found the furniture cushions in disarray, and the magazines that were usually on the coffee table scattered on the floor, his steps quickened. His concern ratcheted up even more when he found Mac, sitting on the floorboards of the deck, rather than in a chair, next to the cold, unused fire pit, staring off into the night sky. Jack knew that face too well. He'd only ever seen it on one other occasion, but it had been terrifying. A friend of Mac's had called him after Peyna's death saying that Mac had been in the hospital for four days. Jack had immediately felt his stomach drop and asked how badly he was hurt. The kid, Thompson, had let out a long shaking sigh. "That's the thing. He's basically okay. He got knocked around a little, had a concussion, but it's more that he hasn't eaten or said a word since we brought him in."

"Nothing?" Jack had asked.

"Well, that's actually why I tracked you down. I know you're back stateside now, but I sat with him for a while last night. Around sunrise … um that was a few hours ago here, sir … he looked at me, really looked at me, and for a minute he looked like Mac … that light he has … you know?"

"I do," Jack had said, thinking poor Ricky Thompson, who was even younger than Mac, was havin' a hell of a tough week.

"And he talked. But all he said was, 'Jack. Call Jack.' So I did some digging, sir, and I guess I found you."

Jack had been on a flight less than an hour later. It had taken him about nine hours of constant gentle chatter to help that young EOD tech to find his way out of his own brain. Jack had spent the years since worried that if Mac ever went back into whatever strange place full of dark shadows and twisted hallways he'd been lost in, he'd never find his way out again. Jack could feel his heart hammering, a small frightened animal trapped in the cage of his chest, until Mac turned and looked over his shoulder, completely lucid, if a little sad. "Hey, Jack. Thanks for coming."

Jack dropped down onto the deck next to MacGyver, crossing his legs and leaning his arms on them casually, like he wasn't sick with worry. "Always, bud. You freaked me out a little bit … I thought you'd gone off on me again and I …"

"I told you, Jack. That won't happen. I said I'd call you." Instead of defensive or dismissive, Mac's voice was almost perfectly flat, like something meant to be experienced in three dimensions squashed onto a sheet of paper.

Jack kept his physical distance. Mac looked almost perfectly relaxed, but his tension was humming off him in waves. Jack thought if he touched him, he might just bolt. "And you did. You did call me. Do you _feel_ like it's trying to happen?" Jack wasn't sure what the right course of action would be if Mac said yes, but he wanted him to try to express what had made him pick up the phone.

"No … Yeah … Maybe … But it can't, Jack. I can't go there, where it all is, but I can't let it out either ... I have to be okay, if I start being not okay … I have to not think about it, lock it all back up, just lock it …"

"Hey, Mac. Slow down a minute." Now Jack risked putting his hand on Mac's arm. Instead of flinching, which was what Jack was half expecting, Mac shifted himself closer, almost, but not quite leaning on him. "I think we've finally stumbled on the problem."

Mac glanced at him. The dark eyes that were always Mac's cue that everything was going to be alright, that someone was looking out for him, were trained on him with soft seriousness. Mac looked away quickly. It made him feel like crying, really crying; and if he started right now, he didn't think he'd ever stop. "Oh yeah?"

Now Jack slung an arm around his shoulders. "You think you always need to be okay. Sometimes, brother, being not okay is absolutely essential to survival. Sometimes it just how we let things go."

"Jack, I can't …"

"If you never let things go Mac, if you just carry everything, all the time … It can get awful heavy."

"No, I don't want …"

"Mac, for the first time, maybe the first time in your life, everyone around you just wants you to take care of yourself, to be you, brother." Mac's breathing changed a little and the tension in his shoulders increased. "You know me and Boze are always gonna feel that way. And now you've got Riley, too. We're your family." Mac nodded almost imperceptibly. "But I know your family wasn't always like that." Mac's head dropped toward his chest and Jack could almost feel the kid grinding his teeth. "Your mom was too sick after a while … And your dad was too selfish. Even your granddad … I'm sure he did his best, but I think maybe you were too much for him because a lot of your stories sound like he was trying harder to get you to fit in than to be yourself."

Mac nodded again almost reluctantly.

"And work … War is war, and when I could offer you the DOD transfer to DXS out of a warzone I thought I was doing a good thing, but … Sometimes I've almost wanted to quit the Phoenix and drag you away with me. Work has almost encouraged you to stomp down on what you need." Mac almost started to pull away, and Jack relaxed, resisting the urge to try to keep Mac by his side. The result was Mac realizing he wasn't trapped, that he didn't want to take off, and leaning closer. "Thornton was always on you – 'You're fine Mac, come back to work Mac'. After Lake Como … you were still supposed to have a month's leave when she dragged you in to retrieve that bio-weapon and she used your guilt over Nikki to do it. No way you'd have gotten medical clearance for that mission either, but she was the boss and she bypassed all the usual protocols. And don't even get me started on Nikki, brother. After Cairo, you should've been taking it easy for months. You should've had that third surgery. But she was on you to get back to work, to go running on the weekend, to not get another scar … To pretend you were fine when you weren't."

Mac almost whispered, "She was here when I got home."

Anger flashed in Jack's eyes and he was glad Mac couldn't see it. He asked carefully, "Did you guys have the mother of all fights in your living room or something?"

Mac shook his head, starting to feel the return of the anger he'd felt when he saw her sitting on the couch going through his and Bozer's stuff. "No … She hacked our alarm system and was searching the house. Because I hadn't called her supposedly …"

"She did that?" He couldn't keep the heat out of his voice this time.

"Yeah … I don't know what to do about it, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to see her again. I … I just feel like she took two years of my life, Jack. Two years of my life were a lie. And then this stuff with Thornton …"

"Well, you've got a pile of honest folk in your life now, Mac. You want to report the break-in to Matty?" Mac considered it, then nodded. Jack unthinkingly squeezed him around the shoulders, and gentle as it was, he heard Mac's breath catch. "Hurtin', bud?"

"No, I'm …" Mac shrugged and his face wrinkled with the pain of it this time. "Okay, yeah."

"You take anything?"

No answer.

Jack got up and went into the house to find the prescription bottle he expected to find in Mac's coat or casually discarded somewhere. Mac wanted to get up and follow him, to protest that he didn't need anything, but just couldn't make himself care enough to do it. When Jack found the pills sitting neatly on the counter, it told him his partner had at least seriously considered taking them. He shook out two and grabbed a fresh water bottle. He headed back outside and found Mac in exactly the same position he'd left him in. He held out the pills and water bottle, expecting an argument. Mac just took them from him and dry swallowed the pills, putting the water bottle off to the side. "Thanks," he said quietly.

In the dim illumination of the distant city lights, Jack could see a single tear trailing down Mac's cheek. Jack resumed his post; arm draped loosely around Mac's shoulders, waiting for the walls to come down, the dam to break. It had been a long time coming and he'd known it was imminent when he saw how Alexei had reminded Mac of his younger self. "Everybody is giving you permission to not be okay right now, Mac." He came close to shrugging Jack's arm off, but stopped himself. Jack had something to say and he knew he needed to hear it. That's why he called Jack in the first place instead of just retreating inside himself. "You know why Matty sided with me over you getting your ankle looked at and then taking a couple of days off?"

Mac had practically forgotten all about that. He shook his head. "Maybe being a mother hen is contagious?" He'd meant it to come off as one of their usual teasing one liners but now he could hear the flatness in his own voice. It scared him a little. Because, not only was it familiar to Jack from that one disturbing occasion, MacGyver remembered it, too.

"Matilda Webber isn't going to have a touchy feely conversation. It's just not who she is. But she read your file. And she's a sharp as they come. She's also just a really decent person … And yeah, I'm sayin' nice things about Matty the Hun … I actually should probably stop callin' her that … But that was her way of telling you that she wants you taking care of yourself … not just gutting it out and suffering through … whatever … Phoenix has other agents. They only have one Mac."

Mac realized he was leaning fully into Jack's side. He could feel what was coming and was struggling with all his might to clamp down on it again, beginning to pull away. "They only have one Jack, too."

"Damn right." Mac was starting to put his walls back up. Jack could feel it. He had been through similar experiences himself, but he'd never known anyone who could compartmentalize as well as Angus MacGyver and there were twenty years of pain weighing this man down right now. That was a terrible burden. If he didn't put it down, and soon, Jack was worried it would break him. Mac had called him for help. "Mac." He waited a beat until MacGyver looked at him. "I need you to hear me right now, bud. I want you to be as okay as you want to be, but I'm gonna tell you, you're gonna have to let yourself be not okay for a while before you get there. Just let yourself feel something, Mac." Mac frowned. He didn't really want to, had done everything he could to prevent it. "Mac, you know I think of you like a brother … like a son. And it's about time I said this without a belly full of beer, or being drugged by some POS terrorist, or on the verge of death. I love you, Mac."

That was all it took. Mac felt something inside him break and he'd expected it to be terrible, like a vial of dark poison in clear water, but the almost immediate sense of liberation he felt was more like opening the windows on a sunny morning after a long spell of rain. It allowed the tears he'd been holding back over the many tragedies of his life to truly start to fall in the uninhibited, unrestrained way that is so often the beginning of true healing. In the midst of it, he did manage to whisper, "I love you too, Jack."

0-0-0

The rising sun found the two of them finally moving inside. Jack put cushions back on the couch so they could sit. Mac started to help, but sat on the coffee table and let Jack do it when he saw those dark eyebrows draw together. When the cushions were arranged he sat down in one corner with his legs partially drawn up, facing Jack. They sat there for a while not saying anything. After a while, Jack wondered about the expression on his friend's face. He was wearing a funny half smile that even after all the years they'd known each other was unfamiliar. "How you doin' now Mac?"

The smile increased by a degree or two. "Good. Like actually good, not I'm-saying-good-so-you'll-leave-me-alone."

Jack smiled. He didn't know if he thought Mac was quite to 'good' yet, but he'd made a hell of a start. "That's good. Because you and I both know I'm not gonna leave you alone anyway."

Mac chuckled and got up. "I'm gonna start some coffee … Wanna go make a run to Wexler's and grab some bagels?"

Jack got to his feet, too. _Jeez, kid, let yourself sit for five minutes_ , he thought. "Nope … You were up all night. And it was kind of intense. You need to sleep, bud."

Papa Jack was back. "I slept on the plane," he said dismissively.

"No … you did what you usually do. You pretended to sleep on the plane." Mac frowned. _Was the man psychic?_ "The only way I've ever seen you actually rest at 40,000 feet is whacked out on pain meds and you and I both know you didn't take any." Mac grinned a little, but didn't stop pouring water into the coffee pot or grabbing beans to grind. "Angus Henry MacGyver, you need to get some rest."

Mac stopped. Jack was prepared to mount a fairly serious argument if the middle name got trotted out. "Jack," he said, very reasonably. "I'm jetlagged as it is. If I sleep all day today, it's gonna throw my sleep schedule off so much I'll be a zombie come Monday morning at the office."

He drowned out Jack's initial reply with the coffee grinder. But the reprieve was short. "Nice try … But I think we're gonna call in on Monday."

Mac's immediate impulse was to argue, but it was out of habit. It was a habit he had realized a few hours ago that needed changing, and since he'd instinctively reached out to Jack for help, some part of him must think Jack had some wisdom around these sorts of problems. "We are?"

Jack had seen the war of wanting to argue and wanting to make a change in Mac's eyes and his smile was very affectionate when he said, "You bet. You weren't paying any attention but Steve said that he expects your injury to take at least another month to get to a place where you can really rehab it and Matty gave you a look that was so close to motherly I almost cried."

Mac actually laughed, then he frowned … _A month … Of desk duty? Well, shit._

"So it's not like you'd be missin' anything you wouldn't want to miss anyway."

"More sitting on my ass doing paperwork? You got that right."

Jack grinned. This was way more agreeable than he expected to find Mac, even with all the progress he'd made last night. "Good. Because I want to take you to meet my friend Marissa."

Mac tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Your massage therapist?"

Jack laughed, hoping this suggestion would be well received. "Yeah, well, I been sayin' that for years. But she's just my regular old therapist. She's pretty great. And she's vetted and looped in by Phoenix. Been on contract since the DXS days."

Mac's frown was increasing, but then it was interrupted by a yawn. He nodded. "Okay." Jack gave him a huge approving smile, but because the habit was so deeply ingrained, Mac added the caveat, " _If_ Matty's okay with us blowing off coming into the office."

Easiest compromise in the world to make since, while he wasn't going to tell Mac, he'd already texted Matty and she'd told him she wanted both of them to take the week and let her know if they needed more. They finally had a real, complete, team that could handle almost any mission without being in undue danger and she wanted every member of it able to operate at their best. "You bet, brother. Now, how about you catch some shuteye?"

Mac sighed. He was beat. He felt like he'd run a marathon uphill without so much as a box of raisins for fuel. "Okay. You win. I'll try. What are you gonna do?"

"Well, since I don't have a bum shoulder and ribs that are still bruised six shades of southwestern sunset," Mac was very close to interrupting, but instead to just dropped his eyes with a grin when Jack gave him that knowing look that he always had. "I thought I'd clean up the rest of this mess, eat some of that pulled pork Boze left in the fridge, and maybe watch some Bruce Willis. I think I'm feelin' _Armageddon_."

Mac ran a hand through his hair on his way to his bedroom. Then he turned around grinning at Jack, "If you decide to watch something that doesn't suck, come wake me up."

Mac ducked into his room as a throw pillow came sailing his way, laughing more than it probably warranted, and appreciating the lightness he felt at having started to open some of the doors inside to let the light in. He lay down, expecting to give it a token twenty minutes and then get up and make Jack go get bagels, but when he woke up twenty dreamless hours later he fully appreciated for the first time what not carrying the weight of the world could be like.


	14. Chapter 14

Mac's week off with Jack hanging around during the day and then both he and Bozer keeping Mac company at night didn't feel stifling or like his friends were hovering like it had on occasions where he was on leave in the past. Mostly they goofed off, ate unreasonable quantities of barbeque, and did a fair job of keeping the beer aisle stock person busy in the market up the block. On Friday, Jack dropped in to Phoenix to check in with Matty. He strolled into her office and grinned when he saw Riley sitting at the meeting table with her, going over the specs on a new and improved system for piggybacking on civilian tracking systems for shipments and cargo that she was working on. He flopped down in the chair opposite them and asked with real interest, "How're my two favorite ladies doin' today?"

"We're good, Jack. Clearly not as good as you. You're Mr. Walking on Sunshine this morning," Matty observed.

"I guess maybe I am." Jack grinned at both of them again.

Riley gave him a slightly wry smile back. "You're just dying to tell us why you're all smiles so go for it, Old Man."

"I mostly just came in to say thank you for the week off. He's doin' real well, Matty. He needed this."

"Glad to hear it. Where is our Boy Genius anyway? Too good to come in and say hi or is he afraid I'm going to bury him in paperwork."

Riley laughed. "Terrified would be more like it. God he hates sitting at that desk. Whenever he has to you can tell it's like his brain is screaming. Like normal people do paperwork and they just think how nice it is to get all their ducks in a row, but when Mac does it you can almost hear him thinking that he doesn't have ducks and they aren't in rows. He's got squirrels, and they're at a rave, and they might be rolling."

Jack cracked up. That was the most perfect description of what was going on behind Mac's eyes whenever he had to not be actively doing something that Jack had ever heard. "He actually didn't know I was stopping by. I got him to go see Marissa. He's there again. Third time this week. Still at that assessment stage of therapy basically, although she already giving him some tips on how to cope without burying things and she's suggested EMDR … Do you know what that ..?"

"I do. You got Mac to go see Sissy Miller?" Matty was nearly incredulous so Jack nodded. "Tell the truth, did you wrap him in a sheet, throw him in the trunk, and drag him there?"

"No coercion necessary. And he's not just talkin' to Dr. Miller, but me and Boze, too. Stuff he's never … Anyway, like I said, thank you."

Jack glanced at his watch and got up to go. He'd driven Mac to his appointment under the guise of wanting to be supportive, but he'd really wanted to come in and thank Matty without Mac, who would be with him come Monday morning, or so he had assumed until Matty offered, "Tell him to take another week. You can too, if he needs you."

He shook his head. "Tell you the truth, I think he's ready for some time alone. But I'll let him know you offered and I'll text you."

"If he takes the week on his own, you interested in doing some recruit assessments? Before you get all rusty and useless, Dalton?" Her smile was very friendly.

"Sure!" That sounded like fun; more interesting than surveillance, but zero chance of bullet wounds.

Matty hesitated. "I did put a call in to CIA to see what exactly Miss Carpenter was doing in town breaking and entering, but no one seemed to know that she was away from the Atlanta office. Hopefully I put a bug in the right ear to find out what's going on … I may have you dig a little deeper on that if you come in, too.

Jack's expression was more serious now. "I'll be in touch before you close up shop tonight."

0-0-0

When Jack relayed the offer of another week, Mac set down his beer and gave Jack a hard look. "I wouldn't actually hate the time … But you must be getting kind of bored hanging around here."

That was Mac's 'fishing' voice. He wasn't going to ask Jack openly if he was still here hovering in mother hen mode or if he really was just hanging out to be supportive. Jack decided honesty was the best policy. "Mac, I would never consider your company boring, but I don't want to hover, and I get the feeling you might like a little space." MacGyver looked almost surprised. "If you want the break, take it, brother. Matty offered me some time harassing trainees. If you go in, you'll be stuck squinting at reports for at least another week or so before they'll even consider clearing you for stepping out of your office. Way I see it, you might as well work on your tan on the company dime instead of bein' bored spitless at work and using up a lifetime supply of paper clips."

Mac grinned, mind already occupied with the things he wanted to do over the course of a week all on his own with no obligations. He paused for a second. "Would it be weird if I asked you to stay this weekend? Boze is going over to Beth's again … And I haven't mentioned it, but my nightmares have been kind of bad since I started seeing Marissa and talking about things. I'm a little uncomfortable with the idea of an empty house."

Of course Jack stayed. Mac openly admitted the desire for company; no way would Jack discourage that. They wound up taking Mac's Bluetooth speakers outside on the deck and took turns playing their favorite music, cooked food on skewers over the fire, drank the rest of the beer that was left in the fridge, and slept in the open air in the chairs on the deck. Mac found he slept surprisingly well like that. Bozer came home Sunday night elated because Beth had given him his own key to her place and had hinted, ever so slightly, that they should start officially having some trial runs on really living together, not just spending all weekend … you know. Jack had teased him very good-naturedly and Mac had just grinned, so pleased that Bozer had finally relaxed enough to be himself around a woman and that her response had been to clearly fall for him completely, that he entertained a pleasant fantasy of getting to be a best man sometime soon. The week passed quickly with Jack thoroughly enjoying being back at work and Mac really experiencing a week of relaxation, practicing what Marissa told him would probably be his most important new skill: not being busy. She said it was fine to have a busy mind, wonderful even, but only if it was busy for its own sake. If you were keeping it busy to stop thinking about something, to avoid dealing with it, that was as bad as abusing pain medication to avoid dealing with a health problem. "You," she had said gently, "may have a slight busyness addiction that we need to work on."

His ribs felt better, well, better enough to start running again and he did it with no music, no pushing until he felt sick, just a leisurely jog on a trail where he stopped to chat with a few people along the way and got one lovely dark haired woman's phone number at the water fountain. He had no intention of calling her, but he'd been flattered as hell that she approached him. And Marissa was right; there was something to be said for engaging with an activity for its own sake rather than to induce numbness. When Jack arrived on Thursday after work he saw the bright green and white surfboard that hadn't been out of the garage in years sticking up out of Mac's jeep, and sandy footprints leading into the house, which meant he'd driven home barefoot, not thinking, just enjoying his time outside like he used to every weekend. Mac hadn't been surfing since before Cairo.

When Jack strolled inside he found Mac leaning unselfconsciously against the counter wearing only his long swim trunks and chugging a lemonade that he'd stashed in the freezer before he'd left several hours before. His ribs still bore some faint, mostly yellow traces of bruises, and his upper arm and near his collarbone still showed the still-angry red and pink lines of his recent surgery, but other than that Jack thought he looked very well, and heavier than he'd been since before Lake Como, which had ultimately resulted in him dropping ten or more pounds that he could ill-afford to lose. He was very tan, his hair and eyebrows bleached very blond. He put down the lemonade, grinning broadly at Jack. "Want one?"

"Sure," Jack said, taking his spot on a stool on the other side of the counter. Mac got him a lemonade, this one from the fridge, and sat down next to him on the other stool. "So … surfing, huh?"

Mac glanced away for less than a second, almost embarrassed. "Yeah … I mentioned it to Marissa … that I hadn't been in a long time. We talked through my reasons and she suggested that I give it a try again and let her know how it went next week when I see her."

Jack's eyebrows climbed, "And how did it go?"

Mac was grinning again. "I can't believe I ever stopped."

"Why did you? You never really said. I figured your leg hurt too much for a while."

Mac shook his head, looking at the floor for a minute. "I didn't like wearing shorts … Nikki said they drew attention to my scar, that someone would notice and I'd have to explain it."

"And?"

"And I think she just didn't like looking at that scar, or she didn't like that I went and enjoyed something she didn't like to do … Today someone did ask about the scar and the mess on my shoulder. I just said I got it overseas like Marissa suggested. And you know what? The guy didn't ask what happened or anything, just what branch, like he knew instinctively I was military, and I said Army, which isn't exactly even a lie, and he thanked me for my service and bought me a beer and we paddled out together a couple times."

"I see shorts are back in the wardrobe rotation, Roomie," Bozer called cheerfully as he breezed in, carrying a couple of bags of groceries over one wrist and tossing a pile of mail on the counter with the other hand. "And because I approve of seeing The Green Monster sticking up out of that Jeep again, I'm not even gonna complain about the sand you got all over the floor."

Mac hopped up to start helping put away the groceries. "I'll sweep it up, Boze, I promise. Soon as I get the food put away."

"Good because I want to take a shower before I cook my boys dinner!" Bozer headed off in the direction of his bathroom and the water came on almost immediately.

"Aaahhh, is that ground beef?" Jack asked. Mac waved it at him before stashing it in the meat drawer. "I'll go fire up the grill!"

Jack was out on the deck with the charcoal and lighter fluid before Mac could even acknowledge him. Once things were in the fridge Mac started leafing through the mail, sorting it into four piles; recycling, wrong address, Bozer, and Mac. A crisp red envelope with bold silver lettering was addressed to Angus MacGyver in computer-generated perfect script. Mac thought it looked like an invitation of some sort and tore it open.


	15. Chapter 15

When Jack came inside a few minutes later he was half talking to himself and half talking to MacGyver, "Man, there's some great takeout around here but I can't wait for a real honest-to-goodness Burger a la Bozer …" He trailed off as he took in Mac sitting on the couch looking serious and Bozer pacing around. "What's goin' on in here fellas?"

Mac held up a heavy cream colored card. On it was typed a poem. It looked like it was done on an old style typewriter but Jack could tell from running his fingers over the paper's surface that it had to have come from a printer; it was too smooth to have been typed. Jack took a few minutes to read it:

 _Turning and turning in the widening gyre_

 _The falcon cannot hear the falconer;_

 _Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;_

 _Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,_

 _The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere_

 _The ceremony of innocence is drowned;_

 _The best lack all conviction, while the worst_

 _Are full of passionate intensity._

"What the hell is this Mac? Creepy poetry has Murdoc written all over it ..."

"It's not from Murdoc. But we still need to call this in. It's a poem by W.B. Yeats called _The Second Coming_. He wrote it in 1919 in response to World War One."

"Okay, fine. But how do you know? And why the hell would someone _else_ send you this?"

Mac stood up, running his hands through his hair. "Turn it over."

Jack did and swallowed hard.

 _The darkness drops again but now I know_

 _That twenty centuries of stony sleep_

 _Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,_

 _And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,_

 _Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?_

Beneath the last line of the poem were the hand written words, " _Where will you be when it gets there, Mac?_ "

"Well, son of a bitch." Jack needed to sit down. Mac joined him but didn't say anything else.

Bozer strode over to them. "That's Nikki's handwriting! After she broke in here … that's the creepiest damned thing I ever heard."

"Oh, it gets creepier," Jack said, his voice sounding almost husky now. " _Bethlehem_ was the codename for a mission we did under Thornton, all three of us … It's one of the ones Oversight is still looking at for connections to The Organization …" He cleared his throat. "We'll … uh … We should get this to Phoenix, like you said. Where's the envelope?"

Mac was staring at the poem, a vague frown on his face. Jack was immediately worried this would be a setback. "Mac?" Mac didn't answer. "Angus MacGyver!" Jack said a little sharply.

Mac shook his head quickly. "Sorry Jack. Just thinking, wondering …" He trailed off.

"Don't you go gettin' lost in that mind palace of yours, bud."

"You watch Masterpiece Theater?" Mac was surprised into laughing despite how unsettled this card had him feeling. He couldn't help it. The idea of Jack Dalton with a secret _Sherlock_ addiction was too funny.

"I am a man of many talents and interests," Jack teased, but couldn't completely conceal his concern.

Mac got up. "The envelope's on the counter. Would you mind giving Matty a call, maybe Ri, too, see if they're still around at work? We can head over in a few? Then the boss can decide how we proceed with this …"

"Sure, bud … where you goin'?" Since this involved Nikki, nothing was going to stop Jack from worrying, even though he approved of Mac's immediate impulse to pull in the larger team.

Mac headed toward his room. He could read Jack's concern and wanted to reassure him. Nikki wasn't going to play mind games with him anymore. Maybe she was in trouble, maybe she was trouble. He was going to find out. He decided to adopt Jack's favorite strategy and crack wise to keep things light. "I'm gonna grab a shower and pull some clothes on. Shorts might be back in the rotation, but nobody at work needs to know that I have phenomenal abs."


	16. Chapter 16

Unsurprisingly, when they'd reached Matty she was still at the office. The rest of the team sometimes wondered if she ever left. It was one of the reasons they'd gotten into the habit of inviting her over after missions, or out with them. Riley had already gone home, but was more that okay with getting called back in for something like this. Jack asked about briefing in the newest members of the team but Matty told him that could wait until they got into work at the usual time since, while she hated to admit it to Mac or Jack, they'd already been included in the taskforce that was investigating _Bethlehem_ and other possible Phoenix connections to The Organization prior to being assigned to their team for Chechnya. Jack had expected Mac to be upset, but he'd just shrugged and asked Jack if he wanted to drive. Bozer had no interest in coming along but Mac and Jack ganged up on him and convinced him to come to the office, not because they thought he'd want any part in the investigation, but since he'd gotten the mail with the card in, had been there when Mac opened it and they knew Matty would have questions. It was almost strange for Mac and Jack to see Bozer on the ride over treating Riley the same way he treated them. Mac had the brief thought that things must be getting really serious with Beth.

When they got to Phoenix Matty took the card from them immediately and read it with a grim, but almost sly expression on her face. She handed it off to a technician for analysis, then she took them all into the conference room and asked a fairly standard set of questions. Afterward, she dismissed them and sat at the table, talking with her assistant about making arrangements for a meeting of the taskforce. She turned to find the team milling around, hands in their pockets, and looking like a bunch of kids caught cutting class waiting outside the principal's office to find out just how many detentions they were going to owe. Matty plastered on her sternest expression. "What are you all still doing here? You brought in the evidence, answered my questions … I'm confused as to why you're standing in my doorway like you want to try and sell me something."

Jack looked ready to mount a defense, Riley smirked like she knew exactly what was on Matty's mind, but Mac's expression was the one that made her feel bad. He looked hurt … No, betrayed was a better word. Then she remembered hearing how Thornton had shut him out of nearly every aspect of the investigation after Lake Como, every mission that could have led them to Nikki. And while she was often both impressed with and worried about the incredibly thick skin MacGyver could have, this wasn't the time to make him prove it. "I'm kidding." They all shared a look of relief and Mac's shoulders looked like they dropped about six inches. "I'm assuming you are all lurking around because you want in."

Bozer was the first to respond, "No offense, Boss, but I'm still here 'cause Jack gave me a ride. I want us to figure out what's what, but I don't want to …"

Matty interrupted with a softly affectionate smile. "I can't say that I blame you Bozer. You've had a tough time the last few months yourself. I believe Ms. Randolph is downstairs finishing up that instant glove polymer experiment she was running earlier. Maybe you could catch a ride home with her."

Bozer was halfway down the hall already, hoping to catch Beth before she left. "Hey, if I'm not home when you get there … Well, you know …"

Mac raised his eyebrows, "Yeah, we know, Boze."

Before any of the rest of them could say a word, Matty spoke. "I want to see each of you in my office. There are things I want to hear from you before I say yes to your involvement in this initiative." Mac took a step toward her door, determined not to be left by the wayside like he had been in the past, but Matty tipped her chin at Riley. "You first."

Mac frowned, but not any more so than Jack, who didn't see why this wasn't a cut and dried case of 'you're involved, you're the best, so you're in'. As Riley headed into Matty's office, Jack led Mac to the small waiting area Matty maintained outside her office and took a seat, immediately taking out his phone and starting a fresh game of Dots, which always relaxed him, although he couldn't have said why. Mac did an admirable job of just sitting there for about ten minutes, trying really hard to be 'not busy' but soon he reached into the bowl on the coffee table and grabbed a small handful of paperclips. Jack gave him a sideways glance from time to time, realizing after another ten minutes or so that Mac wasn't even making anything with the paperclips, he was just unwinding them and weaving them together or braiding them. Jack raised his eyebrows and Mac gave a little sigh. Already knowing the honest answer Jack gave Mac an opening. "You alright there, bud?"

Mac started doing something with the twined-together pieces of metal on the table in front of him, more so he didn't have to look Jack in the eye than because he was particularly focused on what he was creating. "Yeah … I mean that card shook me up a little, but … I'm fine."

"Angus …" Jack's voice had the hint of an edge, but it was a very affectionate one.

"Okay!" Mac glanced up at him almost smiling. "I'm totally not fine. Not even at all. I've got a bad feeling about all of this … And that's not me … I don't get feelings about events I can't explain, I look for explanations. Feelings are your thing." Jack didn't disagree. "Anyhow, like you always say … something is stirring in the weeds … Did I get that right?"

Some of Jack's Texas colloquialisms were lost on Mac, but if he remembered this one right, it perfectly described how he felt about what was going on right now. "Well, you gotta put a little more feelin' into it, but, yeah, more or less. And you're right. Somethin's stirrin' in the weeds fer sure. Like maybe a rattlesnake."

Mac nodded. "And I don't want to be the last one to know what it is … I don't want to get sidelined on this Jack!"

"I can understand that, brother. But I …"

"Look, if Matty cuts me out the way Thornton did … I want you to still take an in if you can get it. The thing with Nikki … it's not just personal to me because she was my girlfriend. It's personal to both of us because she was on our team. If she's in trouble and this has all been some weird cry for help … it should be us that helps her."

"Now I don't know if that's ..."

"I'm not still in love with her." Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm not!" he repeated more adamantly. "But that feeling I have keeps telling me that maybe it's not that she's in trouble, more like she is the trouble … And I don't know what to make of that … what it means about me falling for her, about her role in taking down Thornton, any of that. But that's just something I'm gonna have to work out. If she _is_ a traitor, we should be the ones to take her down too. I couldn't stand it if we both got shut out Jack."

"I'll watch my mouth with Matty, Mac. I'll make sure at least one of us is in on this."

Riley walked up to them just then. "Hey, Jack, Matty wants to talk to you next."

"Are you in?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Riley nodded. "Full team briefing at ten thirty tomorrow morning."

"You were in there for a long time. What was that all about?" Mac was extremely curious.

"Lots of stuff." Riley deflected, then patted Mac on the shoulder. He'd gotten to his feet and she didn't think he even knew it until he realized he was eye level with her. "You want me to keep you company while you wait to talk to her?"

"Nah," Mac shook his head. "I'm fine. You need a ride?"

Riley shrugged. "I'll call a Lyft. I kinda wanna get home and crash."

Riley was already on her phone when Matty stuck her head out of her door to call, "Dalton, come on already, I don't want to be here all night."

Jack stepped past Mac and found a small paperclip sculpture shoved into his hand. It was a net, intricately woven and immediately recognizable. "This your way of saying we gotta catch Nikki, Mac?"

Mac grinned somewhat shyly and glanced away. "Actually, it's a safety net. And I'm starting to figure out that it's okay to need one, to want one even … It's also a lot nicer than calling someone a crutch."

That was almost the most reassuring thing Mac could've done to assuage Jack's concern that these events were going to trigger a mental relapse. "Two way street, bro," he called as he headed into Matty's office.

In spite of Mac's best intentions, he wound up pacing quite a bit while Matty spoke to Jack. He did manage to be back at the coffee table looking composed and relaxed when Jack returned to tell Mac the boss was ready for him. "Good?" Mac asked.

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "Real good." Mac took a deep breath and put his hands on his knees, getting to his feet like he was starting to feel the length of a day that had gone out of its way to be long. "Hey, we never ate dinner. I'm gonna run and get us some take out. Whadaya want?"

Jack half expected Mac to say 'nothing' but instead he got, "In-N-Out Burger maybe?"

"Sounds good to me, kiddo. Good luck in there."

Mac shrugged again as he walked into Matty's office, telling himself that even if she told him he was too close to this, that he was 'emotionally compromised' or whatever the hell Thornton had tried to pretend was why she didn't want him involved, Jack and Ri were in, and so were Todd and Steve. Whatever was going on, his team would be part of resolving it. However he was going to do his level best to convince Matilda Webber that the team would be better off if he was on it. Matty looked up from her IPad as he stepped in and closed the door. "Thank you for coming right to me with this Mac." Mac nodded. "Why don't you have a seat?"

When Jack got back Mac and Matty were sitting on the couch in the waiting area, chatting. Mac didn't look devastated or angry so he assumed the conversation must have gone reasonably well. Instead of saying anything, Jack just held out a bag full of food. "Got enough for you too, Matty."

She looked into the proffered bag and pulled out a Double Double and fries. "What? No shake?"

Jack held out another bag, but Mac grabbed it first. "I don't care what either of you eat, but if there's a strawberry shake in here, it's mine."

They had a very late, very companionable dinner at the coffee table outside Matty's office. Jack's eyes kept straying to Mac's face. His laugh was so genuine, his conversation so easy, and his appetite so solid (he'd offered to arm wrestle Matty for the last burger in the bag) that Jack almost wanted to be worried. But Mac's eyes said this wasn't an act. Not that he wasn't thinking, worrying. There was a lot going on behind those electric blue eyes, and Jack wasn't about to pretend that would ever change, but those wheels turning were part of Mac as a whole rather than taking up everything that he was. For now anyway.

When they got up to head home, Jack asked quietly as they walked into the elevator, "You in?"

Mac nodded. "Provisionally, yes."

Matty called out, "Nine a.m., Mac!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he called back as the doors slid closed.

"So you're in, provisionally, and you have to come in an hour and a half before the team meeting?"

Mac shrugged, as he stepped out into the parking garage and headed for Jack's car. "Yeah, Matty says I have to report to Medical for a physical at nine. As long as I agree to whatever rehab the doc recommends, and I get a signature from them, I can come back to work tomorrow and join the taskforce."

Jack smirked, "You gonna try to weasel out of it, or are you actually goin'?"

Mac leaned against the car, resting his elbows on the roof and giving Jack a very knowing look. "Any chance you aren't gonna be standing over me when my alarm goes off in the morning?"

Jack grinned. "Nope."

"Well, then, I guess I'm going."


	17. Chapter 17

Mac skated into the briefing about two minutes before Matty. Jack had been starting to worry something had flagged him at Medical and that he wouldn't be part of this. Not only did Jack want Mac on the team to help outsmart The Organization, no matter what Mac said about his mental health right now, Jack thought it could be a real setback for him. He might be learning to let go of some things, but control was important to Angus MacGyver and that wasn't going to just go away. Mac slid into the seat Jack had saved him at the back of the room, tipping friendly smiles to the other team members who had positioned themselves conveniently close by. Jack asked him quietly, "Did you get lost between the entrance and Medical, Mac? 'Cause I know you were in the building right on time …"

"You're hilarious, Jack. I went straight there." Mac rolled his eyes, but he was still half-grinning, thrilled nothing had disrupted his plan to be included this morning.

"Everything's good though?"

"I'm here aren't I?"

Jack smiled. "Hell yeah, buddy. What took so damned long? Doc think you'll need more surgery or ..?"

"Nothing that drastic." Then Mac rolled his eyes again. "They took blood and I had to wait around for …"

A slight twinge of concern flitted across Jack's otherwise agreeable expression. "How come ..?"

"Matty was very specific about what constituted mission ready. I lost blood, then got a couple of units during surgery, and they didn't have any follow-up blood counts …"

"You had a follow up. In Norway at about three weeks out right, got your stitches removed?"

"Um …" Mac looked at the ceiling.

"You took out your own stitches … You didn't go to your appointment at all. Where did you chicken out to?"

"I didn't chicken out. I just didn't feel like dealing with Landvik." Mac gave Jack a slightly sheepish grin. "So I went and made a video call that didn't involve you being all awkward and nosy in the background."

"To who? And if you say 'Nikki', brother, I swear ..!"

Mac blushed. "No! It was … um … Becca Madden … I mean Rebecca … I … You know, Dr. Madden from …"

"You and Dr. ..?"

"We'd been emailing." Mac grinned. "So you were right. She _is_ interested. Turns out, so am I."

"Nice!" Jack was genuinely pleased. "I'm not even gonna yell at you for blowing off a doctor's appointment and fibbing about it. Especially since you actually went today."

Jack was about to start asking for details about whatever was going on between Mac and the beautiful scientist, who he had known without a shadow of a doubt had been interested, but Matty chose that moment to call the group's attention to the screen at the front of the room. It displayed a still frame pulled from Mac and Bozer's security camera. Mac shifted uncomfortably. He'd already watched the footage of Nikki breaking into their house, but he hadn't told Bozer he'd turned it all over to Phoenix. He wasn't sure how his friend would feel about it, but he wanted to distance him from this as much as possible. After everything Boze had been through this year, dragging him deeper into the more dangerous side of the business either physically or emotionally was not what Mac wanted. Jack could almost hear what Mac was thinking as he glanced at the tense profile next to him. He chuckled to himself as he thought, ' _Yeah, a protective streak is a helluva burden some days, kid._ '

Matty prevented even a whispered comment when she opened with, "Nikki Carpenter, CIA employee and former senior analyst for the Phoenix predecessor the Department of External Services, was recently filmed breaking into the home of our lab tech Wilt Bozer and his roommate, our very own Agent Angus MacGyver."

She wasn't saying anything the taskforce hadn't gathered from the meeting summons they'd received, but she thought it bore saying out loud.

"We've been under the impression that Miss Carpenter is an ally, although her behavior recently begins to call that into serious question. Knowing that she was at one point romantically involved with Agent MacGyver makes this even more concerning than it might first appear." She paused; heads tilted, a few whispers were heard. "When you know, not just that someone's a trained operative with extensive personal security measures in place, but you also know the most intimate details of their life including just how inventive and damned tough that operative happens to be … Well, walking through a locked door seems like a stupidly bold, or quite possibly boldly stupid move."

Mac shifted again. Nikki was not either of those things. Matty continued, reading his mind, it seemed. "Miss Carpenter is neither of those things."

Mac was too focused on the screen to notice the look she threw his way, but Jack saw the slight approving raise of one eyebrow at his look of quiet intensity, that spoke of none of the vulnerability she had been at least a little worried about. "Which begs the question, what could she have wanted badly enough to take a risk like that?"

She paused so everyone could think about it. Everyone in the room had already been involved in researching The Organization and investigating potential ties to past missions, and Mac's team was more involved than Phoenix had known until last night when all three of them had told Matty about Mac's independent investigating, which while she disapproved of, she understood. "She claimed that she was concerned for MacGyver's safety. But despite the fact that he hadn't been in communication with her, Mr. Bozer assured her he was alive and well mere days before the incident."

Mac hoped that whatever the point was, she would come to it. He wanted the rest of the information about the tangential investigations to date and he wouldn't get the full file until this briefing was over. "Then, when Agent MacGyver refused to entertain her inquiry she left and the next morning he and his partner Agent Dalton reported the break in to me. I made a few phone calls to my contacts in the CIA and to the best of their knowledge Miss Carpenter was working out of the Atlanta office but I was assured that the appropriate inquiries would be made and the Phoenix would be kept informed. Before CIA got back to me, MacGyver received this communication." Matty brought up a split screen of the card Nikki had signed, if not verifiably sent, so the front and back were visible at once. "This is an obvious reference to _Operation Bethlehem_ that MacGyver's Ops team was part of two years ago." She paused for just a moment so she could see that everyone was still focused. "We have reason to believe, apart from this strange communication, that _Bethlehem_ is threatened again. Since there is now an indication that the past mission may have some connection to the present threat, we are temporarily changing the operational objective of this taskforce from simply an investigatory one to locating Miss Carpenter and bringing her in for questioning, as well as addressing the threat to _Bethlehem_ that is ostensibly posed by The Organization. _Bethlehem_ is too important a strategic asset to allow him to be compromised."

At that point, the full file was distributed to all members of the taskforce. Mac spent a laser-focused couple of hours reading and re-reading every detail with which he was unfamiliar. Predictably, the other team members circled up and started hashing over what they knew. Synthesizing new information was Mac's strong suit; covering him while he decided what to do with it was theirs. Mac listened while he read, interjecting the occasional distracted comment or question. He was thoughtfully chewing a pen when Matty called the group back to order. "As you can see, there are webs within webs here and, as we previously suspected, nothing relating to The Organization, Former-Director Patricia Thornton, Nikki Carpenter, or Chrysalis is as clear as it seems. Since Miss Carpenter seems to be seeking out Agent MacGyver, I think she is the best place to start picking at these threads and unraveling some of this. Mac, would you be comfortable trying to reach out to Nikki, maybe try to draw her out?"

Mac leaned back in his chair, stretching a little and glancing around the room at all the serious eyes now trained on him, waiting to see where this mission might take them. There was no malice in his question, no cynicism, just a desire to be clear. "Are you saying you want to use me as bait?"

Matty was deadly serious. "I don't use my agents as bait. If I ask you to take a risk, you will know it and I'll be upfront with you. All of you. What I'm telling you Mac, is that I want you to take point on this mission."

One edge of her lips curved up, knowing this was the last thing Mac was expecting, if only by the slight widening of his eyes.

"And I've got your six, Mac," Jack added.

Matty nodded. "We all do."

The End … For now


	18. Chapter 18

_Somewhere on Leo Carrillo Beach_

Mac's green and white surf board was leaning up against a purple and orange one, the structure creating a small shaded spot in an otherwise sunny area. It also provided a bit of a break from the breeze off the sparkling blue water. Sandwich wrappers were stuffed into the picnic basket next to Mac, who was digging around in it, still hungry, hoping to find one they missed. Becca was reaching into the cooler for some fresh water bottles and came up instead with a handful of ice and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. The second Mac got up onto his knees, she dumped the whole handful down his back and into the waistband of his trunks. He yelped and jumped to his feet, trying to get rid of the ice as fast as possible without losing his shorts in the middle of the crowded beach. Becca hopped up and danced away. Mac contemplated her with his own gleaming eyes and dipped down into the cooler. She squealed, "You wouldn't dare!" and took off running toward the water line. Their chase turned quickly into a race. And he always won those, damnit! She pelted for the water so hard and fast that her ponytail came loose, sending her dark hair cascading down her back. She beat Mac into the waves by less than a second with a triumphant shout. They tackled each other into the water and were rolled back on the sand a minute later by the waves.

Mac got up first, offering a hand which Becca turned down so she could try to wash some sand off in the next breaking wave. Mac dusted himself off a little and rinsed his hands in the shallow water lapping his feet. "So … wanna go to the stand and get some fish tacos?"

"You are legitimately a bottomless pit, Mac. We just ate!"

"We've been outside a lot," he said, mock defensively.

She was still sitting in the water and grinning up at him. "We have. Your hair is so light from the sun, I think I know what you'll look like when you're an old man."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you got freckles. All of them. I think you're stealing them from other people." This time when he held out his hand, she took it and popped up next to him. "So … we getting some tacos or what, Becs?"

"I'm not hungry."

"I'll buy you a margarita," he winked.

"Hard liquor at two o'clock in the afternoon. Talk about living dangerously."

"Hey, it's my day off. I get to have those. In fact, I'm kind of ordered to have a few. I've barely come up for air at work in three weeks."

She took his hand and started leading him toward the little bar and taco stand a short distance from their towels. "Okay. Fish tacos for you. And two margaritas."

"Two?"

"For both of us. It is your day off. And the afternoon is young."

They walked down the beach together, holding hands, waving and calling out to the other people who they'd gotten to know because they all frequented the same stretch of beach after work and on the weekends. It painted a lovely picture. The kind that winds up on California postcards.

From high on the rocks, she watched them. She didn't have binoculars or anything so obvious; just a cell phone, held casually in her hand, like she was waiting for a call, maybe a date, rather than recording the scene between the water and the cliffs with some extremely advanced modifications. She didn't need her device to tell her that she was recording the right person. She knew that green and white monstrosity very well, had been pleased when it became disused. Now, at least, she knew where he was. And he looked well. Irritatingly well. Happy. Well, for now.

 _Things fall apart._

 _The center cannot hold._

Angus MacGyver had no idea just how close to slouching in to Bethlehem the beast really was.

But he would find out soon enough.

 _That's it for this one guys. Thank you all for your kind reviews, suggestions, and just little things you said that kept this one going and gave me ideas for some other stories that I'm very excited to write. I just got news that my book is coming out in June (I'll have the launch date soon) so I'm really excited and have a lot of energy to channel. If you have prompts you'd like me to fill or just little things you'd like to see, just let me know and I'll do my best. Tune in again soon. Same Mac time. Same Mac channel._


End file.
